


Learn to Fly

by Makhsi



Category: Alliance (Live-Action Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-08 05:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makhsi/pseuds/Makhsi
Summary: Orsolya Kaükapaïva Mielittu of the Horse Tribe of Yalinth was divined at birth to be a táltos, a healer and spiritual leader for her clan. She grew to doubt her teacher's interpretation, however, and fled before her final initiations. Then her fate intersected with that of Squire Hildr' Yggdrasil of House Phoenix. Perhaps this is her true purpose and destiny? She only knows that it feels right, though doubts creep into her heart alongside the growing feelings for Hildr', and her homeland calls her back again.A story of hurt and healing, duty and fate, and a slow-burn romance told in letters, dreams, and snapshots of memory.





	1. Empty with You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story primarily from the perspective of my Alliance LARP character, who I am currently playing. If you are an Alliance LARP player, especially in the Utah chapter, and also in the Denver or San Francisco chapters, this may contain spoilers for characters that you may know; I ask that you not read it, especially if you struggle with keeping in character knowledge and out of character knowledge separate. 
> 
> Writing is part of how I process larp experiences. AO3 was simply the best way to format this story to share with friends who don't currently play Alliance and wanted to follow along.
> 
> Character voice in letter writing changes over time. The initial letters were not written accurately to Orsolya's voice; later letters are. I will someday go back and edit the earlier ones, probably.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Orsolya to Alis dated April 419, sent from Dragonhold to New Acarthia via hawk.

Szia Alis - 

Again, I’ve not written in far too long. I’ve little excuse for the first part of not writing, though more of an excuse for the past months.

When I last left New Acarthia in August 417, I felt at loose ends. You are so well-placed in these lands, you have a place and it fits you well, you have a people to take care of. You have a chieftain of sorts, to advise and support, as we were long trained to do - Parzivel seems a good match for your strength of spirit. And you are so effective! I had thought reclaiming Ungsteen for our people would take years, and I thought Yalinth’s independence would require battle, and yet here we are. I was not needed in the least.

This letter shall be far too long; allow me to divide it into pieces for you.

  
  


**Soothing the unknown dead**

I traveled through Acarthia instead, learning what I could of the land, following the auguries and throwing the bones to find where I am supposed to go. They did not tell me much. I traveled with groups of others, as I know I do not know the ways of these people. I helped where I could. Yet I began to think my place was not in Acarthia at all.

Finally, late last year, my divinations led me through the White Fang mountains. It was so cold, Alis! Colder than any winter I remember in Yalinth. I’d enough foresight to purchase a ritual scroll to resist the elements, and I managed to spellcraft it for myself and my horse, but it was by no means comfortable. I restocked a couple times with the dwarves, and then there was nothing until the other side.

There was a shuddering of earth and sky while I was in the mountains. I had to fight off elementals a few times, and avoided them or rode hard away from them as often as I could. At one point I faced a whole group of them, far more than I could deal with. We ran, and they followed. I saw fog pooling in a valley, and thought I might lose them there. I rode into the mists, and emerged… somewhere else entirely.

I entered frozen steppes spotted with more mountain ranges. There was little food for my horse, but he’s hardy, and we managed to find enough. And then we came upon a camp… It looked much like a Timber Wolf tribe camp, Alis. Except that the tents were charred, burned, and it was silent and still but for the carrion-crows. I rode slowly through the camp, not dismounting in case we needed to run for it… and finally I found the people. Burned from the front, every single one, fighting to the end, all but for a few who were curled around the children in the center of the circle of the dead. They died trying to shield the children with their own bodies.

They were people like ours. These were Free-Folk, separated from us by a mountain range; maybe our tribes were even once related. I knew then why the ancestors had led me here. No one was left alive to chant for these dead, nor tend to the bodies, nor witness their deaths or tell their story or honor their spirits. I didn’t know their names nor their tribe, but I suspect they honored the Wolf by their tokens and decorations. I know not their traditions, so I laid them out for the wolves to claim them. I couldn’t bear to burn them, when fire was what killed them.

I gathered supplies from the camp as trade, and in the morning we moved on again. And the auguries led me to another camp. And a village. And a caravan. And further small settlements, one after another. I did this for three moons, laying the dead to rest in whatever way I could. I found them burned, or frozen, or with lightning-scars like tree roots across their skin, or with stone-crushed skulls and limbs. I realized finally: this had been done by some invasion of elementals the like of which I’d never even heard of. They’d killed all these people. Entire tribes of Free-Folk.

I found not a single living person.

Have you ever traveled alone so long that you forget your own voice? You forget what it’s like to hear another’s words, or touch a person. Your thoughts go quiet and still, you lose words because you don’t use them anymore. It was startling to hear my own voice when I spoke over the deceased. It was just me and my horse, and grateful I was for his warm presence and stubborn life; we were a herd of two, yet it was enough to survive. (The horse without the herd is soon a dead horse. Ravens might sometimes live alone, but never horses.) 

Well. Myself, my horse, and the ancestors, I suppose. But they don’t speak in words so much as in signs and symbols. I felt their presence, but I am alive, and they are not; it is not right for a living person to spend moons with only the dead. You start to feel like one of the dead yourself. I began to wonder if I was a ghost, if my horse and I were both ghosts, and if we were trapped between the lands of the living and the lands of the dead. Who would chant for us if we died? Who would ever find us? I have never felt so alone.

At last my divinations drew me south and east. I found a great walled settlement, yet while this one had no living inhabitants, nor did it have any dead bodies… or rather, I found places where the bodies had been laid to rest by someone else, the remains of great pyres dotting the landscape ahead of me. It was a sign that I was not alone in this terrible work, at least, and that perhaps the entire land was not deceased. I began to hope there was an end to my task. 

**Journeying eastward**

The land grew warmer. I no longer had to spellcraft the scroll, which was fortunate indeed as the magics of the land had gone strange and skewed. I fumbled with my spells; their shape had gone all wrong, and some did not work at all. At last I found a small human village. They looked at me strangely, but it seems Acarthian gold is good in these lands too, and humans ever are greedy for it. I’m glad I didn’t get rid of the coin I’d gathered in New Acarthia, I nearly tossed it aside as dead weight I couldn’t afford to carry while in the cold northlands. I was able to find a human mage who took the scroll in trade for a fresh spellbook, attuned more to the magics of these lands. (Though I am told magic changed in Acarthia, too? So perhaps it is more about the new magics.)

Those frozen lands of the dead I’d just departed, by the way, are called Isenhjem, and they were the territories of the Free-Folk who dwell on this side of the White Fang Mountains. I say “were”, because it seems all of the Free-Folk of Isenhjem were destroyed by the elementals, save for those who were traveling. They are far to the east, so it is a fortunate thing that I rode through those mists. There were no mists to take me back, however. I ended up traversing the entire length of this land from far west to the very shadow of the White Fang Mountains from whence I’d started.

I managed to bypass the movement of many, many human soldiers in purple, black, and silver (not Tiatar’s symbol, near as I could tell their banner was a tower on a purple and black field), amassing at Isenhjem’s borders and marching into the frozen lands. I hope they freeze to death. I hope they haven’t the spells and scrolls to preserve them against the winters there. I hope they fail in their land-greed and that the Free-Folk of these lands can reclaim their territories and rebuild what was lost. I hope Isenhjem doesn’t meet the same fate of servitude that Yalinth did for so many generations. And I hope these humans do not despoil the land or violate the graves of the dead in their greed. I did what I could; I can only hope the spirits of the earth protect the land.

My spirit drew me swiftly to the east. I followed auguries and divinations. Sometimes I let my horse choose the way, and sometimes he even decided to move forward instead of taking the opportunity to graze. We went through the mountains, underground with the dwarves for a long dark stretch, and finally after a full cycle of the moon, I made camp above the ground in sight of the White Fang Mountains.

**Earth-marked and Oathsworn**

It was good to be under a sky again. My people are not meant to live beneath the stone, away from wind and sun; my people are of Horse and Hawk, and these are not cave-dwellers. Yet something changed me as I slept. Perhaps it had been changing all along, all these months after walking through the mists, yet only became something I could see as I drew near to my destination… 

I woke with rocks grown from my skin, an array of stone on my forehead. I worried at first that it might be from spending too much time underground––maybe this had angered the ancestors and the spirits, that a child of Horse and Hawk would bury herself in the stone for the better part of a moon––but when I threw the bones, the answer came clearly back that this was to a greater purpose. This was something of the Earth, and was not yet complete; I was supposed to take action on this. I had a choice, to accept or reject this mark of the Earth, but how to make that choice was unclear.

Not knowing where to go, I readied my horse. The moment I alighted in the saddle, he raised his head and called to the sky; he called as if he’d scented a herd-mate after a long time apart, though of course there could be none of his herd on this side of the mountains. And then I saw the hawk he was looking at,  _ calling to  _ as if it were family, soaring high above us. It circled thrice as we watched, and flew due east like an arrow from a rider’s bow.

I know a sign when I see one, and that was clear as any. I followed the hawk for that entire day, and it only paused once to hunt and eat. At nightfall, the hawk roosted in sight of a fort. It was the first time in a month that my spirit did not feel restless and yearning towards the east, but rather stilled and waiting. 

This fort has been called many things. I’m still not sure of its name; I’ve heard three different names for it. We’ll call it Dragonhold for now, since that was the last name I heard. I reached the fort at night, in the midst of battle––reptilian creatures sick with corruption, and the people of the hold were hard-pressed. I used all three of the Life spells I had memorized that morning, and still there were two more needed; fortunately, there were other healers there, and no spirits journeyed to the Earth circle that night. 

I saw others with rocks on their face like mine. An older man, and a woman about my age, both with the look of Free-Folk except for the rocks. One had a hawk painted in blue across her face––I felt a flash of recognition, a feeling like a signal-bell in my head; she said “I know you”, her face confused––and then the battle continued, and I turned back to healing, and she turned back to trying to shout the field to some kind of order.

Do you remember Squire Hildr Yggdrasil? She came to New Acarthia in, oh, I think it was April 417, or perhaps August 417? Whenever it was that we attended the fae party. She was there, too, and got married to Lumi’s sister Dawn for a year and a day (and that ended––not well, but that’s not my story to tell). We only interacted a little, then, but something about her stuck in my mind, and seeing her on the field at Dragonhold, something seemed to click into place, like an arrow striking home, or a key fitting into its lock.

I am trying to make sense of that Gathering, and it is a jumble in my head. I know not how things moved so quickly, but that is the way of Gatherings, is it not? It seems I was meant to be here, and it felt suddenly natural to fall into the role I was trained for but in which I never felt quite at home before. It made everything develop far faster than I would have expected.

I am getting ahead of myself. It is a struggle to find what part of the story needs told next.

When the battle-dust settled, Hildr introduced––or re-introduced––herself to me, and I to her. She asked how I came to be there, and I said I followed a hawk, and she looked startled before barking out a laugh. Hawk, the spirit of my clan, led me to Hildr, who is a representative of Hawk, who carries Hawk within her in a way. I do not think the spirits have ever spoken so clearly to me than in that moment.

I asked about the rocks, and she asked me if I’d taken an oath. I knew not what she meant, and she seemed surprised and perhaps a little perturbed. Later, she told me, as she had town council business, and she said to talk to the other Free-Folk with the rocks on his face, whose name I learned was Bekkur. If I am not mistaken, he is a native to Isenhjem, as neither Hildr nor I are––Hildr hails from the Maelstrom and beyond, though she’s now made Dragonhold her home.

Bekkur was about to leave on a Healers Guild mission–-well. Healer’s Guild is what I understand it to be, though they call it a … charter guild? Probationary guild? I cannot remember. It is not an official guildhall, it is aspiring to become part of the White Flame, which is the Healer’s Guild of these lands. To do so, they apparently must complete certain tasks. I went along, regardless, and we dove through one those unsettling and strange mirrors, emerging in a hot and humid rainforest called Vuka. (I was dressed in furs and unprepared for the heat. It was highly unfortunate and quite miserable. I am not a creature of hot humid southlands and wish to never be such.) It was all a little confusing; we helped someone get a cursed ring to another location while shadow-creatures attacked us, drawn to the ring, and then the ring was buried. (I never quite got the full story of why we were doing this or what it was to accomplish.) Regardless, we were successful, and I acquitted myself well.

Back in Dragonhold, Bekkur and Hildr in turn explained to me this oath. They said that the rocks were a gift of the Earth, and would likely fall from my face in time if I did not swear the oath. This, it seemed, was the way I could accept or reject the stones and their bindings. They told me the oath and what it meant: That those sworn to it would defend Fortannis, the Earth itself, against all that is without this plane; they would be devoted to promoting planar balance, and fighting against corruption of the Earth. They mentioned Outsiders as a primary foe, which I have never heard of; they described them as terrible dark twisted beings of the Void beyond, powerful entities that are all hunger and hate, and which cannot seem to be killed, only weakened or banished.

It seemed to me as though they spoke of Urick’d’slen, our people’s ancient enemy.

Or something like him, at any rate. I never thought to consider that Urick’d’slen might not be the only one of his kind, that there might be more of him seeping through the cracks in our world. This oath was merely a formalization of that which I already live. Perhaps intensified, perhaps more fanatical… but still within the purpose to which we are tied simply by our ancestry. Horse Tribe descended from White Stag Tribe, after all, from Yalinth and the great blue dragon Alohondricka who was once chained by Urick’d’slen as he fed upon her magics. If Urick’d'slen hunts the descendants of Yalinth still, then I too am hunted by him. Our people of Yalinth are sworn by the promise of our ancestors to forever attempt to hunt and permanently slay Urick’d’slen, after all; this oath commits me again to that, and to ward against his kin as well. And when I threw the bones to consult the ancestors, they told me that now was the chance to lose my old life and gain a new one.

Bekkur tell me that we “Oathsworn” no longer hate using the magic of the stars––what on Fortannis is that supposed to mean? That it no longer attracts the attention of Urick’d’slen, such as when you slept repeatedly under a star-magic ward? Mayhaps. I do not think I will risk it. Our ancestors said that enslaving the stars for their magic was wrong, and I will not risk angering the ancestors, or attracting the attention of Urick’d’slen unduly.

Besides, the Earth gave me this gift with its weighty obligation. What manner of  _ táltos _ would I be if I refused the hand of the Earth herself? I feel as though it would be turning my back on the path entirely, and that did not feel right. It was a crossroads I stood at then, and I did not know that I would choose the  _ táltos  _ path at long last after so much hesitation, until I stood there in Dragonhold with the stones upon my brow.

I took the oath in the moonlit dark of that night with Bekkur and Hildr, who had taken it before and swore it again with me. We swore it by our blood and by the elements that form Fortannis, our bleeding hands held out within a circle formed by large crystalline stones that thrummed with all the essence of the four Foundational elements.

Have these “Oathsworn” appeared in Acarthia as well? I suppose that is what I am now, though I shall always be Free-Folk of Yalinth, too.  
  


**Finding my place at last…?**

Hildr offered me the hospitality of her tent, which I accepted, as anything other than a bedroll in whatever shelter I could find in the landscape was a welcome change from the past months. It provided a chance to learn more of her, too, and all of Ilya and Sunwing’s training in the arts of coaxing open the wounded heart served me well. She’s been through so much and sacrificed so much, Alis. And she talks about it with no one. 

I learned, too, that her father was chieftain of her tribe, and she was brought up to succeed him, trained in the arts of healing and battle and leadership. Yet she says she can never go home again, that her homeland is impossible to reach. She has no people now but the few she’s claimed as oath-kin, family-of-the-heart, and one such brother met his final death in the past moon. She takes on the duties and sacrifices of chieftain, here at Dragonhold, though with none of the titles or recognition; she commands the field of battle, she watches over the people, she sits in council and administers justice, and she takes on the burden of safeguarding the people here as best she can. 

She is a part of this place, yet apart from it. As all chieftains are and must be, and as all  _ táltos  _ are and must be, as all shaman are and must be. Leading and advising the people mean you cannot share your pain with them, for they look to you for strength, vision, and to be a symbol more than a person. If you shared your fears and uncertainties, they might lose hope and they might fear more mightily. If you shared your spirit’s wounds, they might seek to take care of you, and might avoid bringing you their troubles so as not to burden you whilst you struggled. 

I do not remember if Ilya talked about this, but it is something I learned from my mother’s sister, my néni, Petronya, chieftain of my clan Mielittu. She and her mate, my néni Sunwing, táltos of Mielittu and my teacher in the seasons I spent at home instead of with Raven and Illya, talked to me of the separation of the chieftain and táltos from the clan. I knew loneliness already, what it was to be treated as different and strange, as a little frightening even, and as one who did not belong, because I was marked for táltos at my birth and raised among the spirit world in a way that the other children were not. 

They told me more of this loneliness, told me how the chieftain also knew this isolation, that they must hold themselves apart. And they told me how important the pairing of chieftain and táltos is, how terrible for the tribe when the two are in conflict, how each needs the other because there is no one else who can understand this separation. There is no one else to talk to about the weight and heartbreak that comes with these roles, even when chieftain or táltos is so fortunate as to have an understanding mate. 

I have been a táltos without a chieftain. Hildr is a chieftain without a táltos. 

Indeed, this entire place of Dragonhold lacks anything resembling a táltos or a Raven. The entire gathering was one big argument. They are splintered into stress and quarreling. They are a people at war with great and terrible enemies, and yet they are not united. They are more of a single tribe than New Acarthia, mind you––they have not the many rival courts or horde of nobility, and there are far fewer people here, so they must band together more to survive. I think many of them are overwhelmed and desperate, so they strike out like a fearful horse who knows not where to run.

This is where I truly began to realize why I had been guided to Dragonhold. Why my spirit felt strangely at home, despite the odd magics and unfamiliar landscape. 

Was this what I have been searching for all these years? My place in the world? My true fate?

Not a day too soon, either––not for my sake, but for Hildr’s. I remembered Illya and Sunwing’s stories of the spirit near to breaking, what that looks like, the signs to notice. Hildr seemed to me very close to breaking, to burning out and giving up. She carried on, but the strain was visible to me. And in the hospitality of her tent, I saw firsthand how nightmares plagued every hour of her sleeping. 

I only hoped I did not arrive too late. I am still afraid that perhaps I did.  
  


**Death and resurrection**

We come now to the part I am most anxious about, Alis. I fear your judgment, and I worry about worrying you. Please do not tell my family about this part? Néni Sunwing would understand, but I do not think my parents would, and they would only worry unnecessarily.

The day after I arrived in town, Hildr was in a dark mood; she was angered at a human named Corso who comports himself as a noble, yet is not one, and who is a spy who she says has changed sides more than once, and who she suspected of treachery. I do not yet know this Corso personally, beyond a few interactions; I hope to speak with him more at the next gathering. 

I finally convinced her to walk the woods with me, for the chance that the movement would burn off some of her fury. She agreed, but I soon discovered that she was using the walk to track this Corso. His trail led us to a dour scene: a battlefield, two bodies fallen to the ground and dissipating as we approached, a scattering of perhaps four or five people facing off desperately against a larger, well-organized troop of soldiers (bandits?) in uniform who had the advantage of a wall to their backs so they could not be flanked. The uniform was Litimore’s colors, Hildr said, a barony that is an enemy of Dragonhold and in league with this “Empire” that I am told oppresses the people here. 

Hildr began calling for a retreat, and indeed I think that the survivors were already in the process of such. They hesitated though, they kept feinting at the enemy; they had not even a healer among them, Alis, and two of their number dead with none of the enemy fallen that I could see. Hildr roared again for retreat. She said she sensed spirits in the circle and could not wait for the survivors to disengage, she needed to return to the circle to provide resurrection. I lingered, healing where I could when the survivors finally joined me in leaving the battlefield.

When I returned to town, I found Hildr and Bekkur in the Earth Guild, speaking to the two spirits there. I sat just within the doorway, standing witness as I have these past several moons. They resurrected successfully, shaken and tearful, Saoirse and Corso, and I could see the strain in Hildr after. 

She and I adjourned to the tent and spoke for a while on what had transpired. While we were there, we heard a terrible cry, such that I thought someone was dying or that we were being attacked. Yet no noise followed.

Later, when Hildr went to town council, I chose to explore the town and its people. I did not get far before seeing a young elf, Ky, crouched at a tent, listening nervously with his head to the ground. I spoke with him; he’d been woken up by his traveling companion’s cry. Corso’s cry, as it turns out. He felt helpless in the face of a friend’s emotional pain, and was worried, and Corso would not talk to him. I spoke with him for a time, consoled him and listened to his struggles, and then attempted to speak with Corso myself.

He told me, through the closed door of his tent, that I should go away. It was not a request, mind you, just a statement. So of course I did not go away, but offered listening and such understanding as I could provide. He said thank you, but that I should leave. I asked if he wanted me to leave; he paused a long moment, and then said that I needed to go. I asked again if he wanted me to leave, and said that what I was hearing was a person in pain, and that I wanted to provide aid; again a long pause, and finally he said (unconvincingly to my ear) that he wanted me to leave. So I did.

I escorted Ky to their mutual friend Saoirse––he hadn’t known she’d resurrected as well––and from there I was within sight of Hildr’s tent. So was Bekkur, who said to me, “Hildr is not having a good week.” My gaze followed his to where Hildr was walking purposefully across the road, without armor, without belt or pouch or  _ anything  _ except her spirit-linked sword and shield.

I know what that means. I cursed and chased after her.

She tried, of course, to discourage me, to tell me to leave, to say I couldn’t come with her. I refused. I had finally found where I was supposed to be; I was not about to let it slip away on the very same day, not without a fight, not without me there. 

I was  _ not  _ about to let her die alone.

I thought perhaps I’d convince her not to do whatever self-destructive act she was planning on, and failing that, command her to sleep. Failing that, my last desperate plan would be to throw a circle of power around us and trap her into a full candle-mark of sitting in one place, hoping I could talk her down in that time, or that someone would find us. 

She said, though, that she was going to just speak to the bandits from earlier. That they had a book of Saoirse’s, something that had details on many people within the town, and it was a risk to leave in enemy hands. That she was going to negotiate. I started to mistrust my instincts and think that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t doing this in a self-destructive way, that she was actually trying to accomplish something.

I should really trust my instincts. Sunwing and Illya and Stonefeather  _ all  _ have been frustrated with me second-guessing my intuition, tried again and again to get me to listen better to it. One of these years, maybe I’ll even learn.

We found the bandits, nearly a score of them. They said that Herod, leader of the enemy of the region we were in, would pay 200 gold for it, and did we have 200 gold? Hildr said that we didn’t have that on us right now, and before she could negotiate further, they were on us and we didn’t have a chance; they struck us down before either of us could cast a single spell.

(Perhaps I would have been quicker had the changes to the magics not slowed my responses down. But I am fumbling over the incantations and not quite fully attuned to it all yet.)

Fortunately, I had drawn upon the higher magics to bring me back from death at the brink of my spirit leaving my body. I drew breath and I stayed very, very still. I slowly, slowly reached for my rope. Then I flung it around us both and cast a circle of power. Amidst the chaos, I brought Hildr back to life.

She began negotiating at once with the bandits. Telling them that she was worth far more than the book. Bargaining her life for mine and the book. They looked at her, recognized her as Squire Hildr who Herod so hated for stealing his unwilling wife-to-be away from him not once but twice, and agreed that this was true. They agreed.

I objected, fiercely and furiously.  _ I  _ was the one controlling the circle, after all, and we could stay here for an hour if I damn well wanted. (I hoped that someone was tracking us. Hildr had covered our tracks, but maybe she hadn’t done so well enough, and an hour would be enough time. I was wrong in this, too Just as well I didn’t try it.) The bandit leader said that if I did that, we’d both be killed once the circle came down, but he’d give us a minute to discuss it.

She said the book was more important, and that she’d be fine. I knew she was lying, or at the very least her definition of “fine” was far different than mine. Just earlier that day, she’d told me the story of how she grabbed ahold of the Baroness just as Herod was using some kind of magic to transport himself and the Baroness through the aether to his castle. How they were placed in separate cells where they could see one another and the Baroness’s father who was also prisoner. How each were tortured before one another, yet would not break. How Hildr’s mouth was sewn shut to prevent her casting, and when she realized there was nothing she could do, she bit off her own tongue to drown in her own blood and resurrect back in the earth circle of the town, so that she could lead a rescue party to retrieve the Baroness, and how they succeeded.

She would in no way be  _ fine  _ in Herod’s hands.

But I couldn’t argue with the truth of the book’s importance, and that we had no better option. How can we trust them, I asked. How do we know they won’t just kill us the moment I drop this circle? You’d better run fast, she told me. 

So I dropped the circle, and we were slain immediately.

If either of us had been thinking, we’d have had them bring the book to the edge of the circle and remove themselves fifty paces. But Hildr was ready to destroy herself, and I was too worried about her. So we were foolish, and we died for it.

My spirit felt a great urgency. It sped to the Earth Circle as fast as it could go, not brushing by the healers, not waiting for a guided resurrection. I resurrected myself, tore through the veil back into physical form, and it was  _ agony.  _ I dream about it every night, and awaken to my own screams or sobs. Every fiber of my being hurt down to my soul. And then Hildr ripped into being beside me, rolling away to a corner of the Healer’s Guild tent, crouching, snarling, her eyes more wolf than woman.

“The book,” she growled. “Have to get the book.” 

I moved to block the door. Bekkur, the other Oathsworn and the head of the Healer’s Guild, had come into the tent at the sound of our pain, and he let me out of the circle. I knew I had to get through to Hildr before she went to die again. 

It was for this that my spirit was so frantic to resurrect. I needed to resurrect before Hildr. I knew in my bones that if she resurrected before me, she’d rush back out to die again. And again, and again, until whatever strength of her spirit insisted on coming back against her heart’s hurting finally gave up. I knew in my soul that she wouldn’t wait for the gentle guidance of the healers, but would seek the most painful route, flagellating her spirit. I knew this was the only way to get there before her, to have any hope of stopping her.

**Suicide watch and recovery**

Bekkur told us that the book was gone. That a party had gone to track the bandits, followed their trail to a mirror where it disappeared. And finally, someone spoke through the tent door to remind us of Hildr’s friend Petra, and how we’d agreed to assist her in a personal quest of hers.

At least Hildr is Oathsworn still, even in the depths of despair, and is true to her word. 

She told me that she’d argued with the council. That they’d said she was just shouting at people in the field of battle. That she’d gotten Saoirse and Corso killed (though they were dead when we arrived). And whatever else they said, she understood it to mean that she wasn’t wanted, her actions were not valued, and no one would listen to her. I brought up the Baroness, who seemed to care so much for her, and her liege lord; she dismissed this, saying that they only treated her so because it was their sworn duty, that they didn’t care about her as a person.

We argued in hushed sharp voices all the way to the place where Petra was to meet this person who had information about her true parents. When coaxing and reasoning failed, I turned to provocation. She claimed she just was going to get the book, alone, and I told her she was selfish, that she didn’t give a fuck about the people she claimed to be protecting, that she was not stupid and knew that this was a losing strategy. That if she truly cared about these people, really wanted to protect them, she would gather a force to come with her. I told her that she was a coward, running from her commitments and her hurts rather than facing them. 

It almost worked. There were several moments where I thought she would attack me. She threatened it, more than once: “It’s not wise to turn your back on a wolf,” she growled, when I walked ahead of her. I turned and spread my arms. “Then strike me down, if you are going to. I accept this.” She snarled and restrained herself. Later, again, she gripped her sword; her eyes were still so very wolfen, and I pushed at that: “Strike me down with your sword like a person, or fight me with your teeth and claws like a wolf.” She did neither.

She told me, too, that she’d been willing to cast chaos if it’s what she had to do, in order to get the book back. Hildr  _ despises  _ chaos, Alis. And she would have hated herself all the more once she came to her senses, had she done that. I pushed harder: “So you would be an oathbreaker, too?” Again, I thought she would attack me. She claimed the oath says nothing about casting chaos magics, and I told her she’d be breaking the spirit of the oath, that she was talking like fae, like one who abides by the strictest letter of an oath while ignoring its essence. I wonder now if she was simply trying to push me away, or provoke me as well.

In lashing out, she also growled, “How many people have you ever saved? Has your healing ever actually worked?” I did not rise to the bait, I knew it was not about me, but it stung nonetheless. I have served more of the dead than I have the living, Alis, and I know I cannot truly save someone when they want to die. But I had to try.

At our destination, while Petra went inside and we remained without, Hildr told me that the dark elf with us was someone she trusted. I turned to him and quietly asked how he felt about Hildr, what he thought about her value to the town; he spoke highly of her, said that she was invaluable, that people listened to her. I told him that she needed to hear this. I told him she was dangerously self-destructive right now, and I needed help keeping an eye on her to keep her alive. He agreed to help.

Back at camp, a group of people that Hildr feels guilty about and honor-bound to, the Ashen Maidens, were assembled and confronting one of the adventurers. Hildr went to speak with them, and I judged her safely occupied for the moment. I went seeking the Baroness. As someone who’d known Hildr only a short while, I knew I could not be enough to convince her to live. But one person rarely can be. 

Healing happens in the community. And it is the role of the táltos to bring the community together, and facilitate that healing. Hildr needed her people about her, when she felt so isolated and alone, when she felt unwanted removed. She needed to hear her value to the people she serves.

I told the Baroness what had happened, what Hildr had said, and my fears for her safety. The Baroness grew outraged at my recounting of Hildr saying that her liege-lords only valued her because it was their sworn duty to do so, and not for her as a person. “How can she be so  _ selfish?  _ Where is she?” the Baroness asked, her fury and concern burning in her so bright and clear that I swear she glowed. 

“With the Ashen Maidens…” but as I looked around, I realized I didn’t see Hildr or the Ashen Maidens either. Fear flooded through me. I found myself panicked, near to tears, wild with worry. I took my eyes off her for just a minute and what if that was enough, what if that minute was all she needed to disappear and seek a way to die again?

My fear was unfounded. We found her. The Baroness pulled her from the meeting she was in with a sharp word. I stayed back, out of earshot and within eyesight; I was not going to lapse in my watchfulness again.

The Baroness spoke with her, and an elderly man who I learned was the former Emperor, and a friend or comrade of Hildr’s whose name I cannot recall. I waited. I spoke some with Bekkur, telling him what happened and enlisting him in monitoring Hildr; he was surprised that she would think she is unwanted, saying how often people look for her or ask for her whenever there is trouble in town. Yet the quiet voices of need and appreciation often go unheard, or are not said to the person they’re about, and far louder are the fewer voices of anger and criticism.

I expected that Hildr would not trust me after all of this. That I’d destroyed my hope for a place before I’d even truly established it, but it was the right thing to do, and the only way to keep her alive. I expected her to be furious at me, or to hate me.

When she was finally alone, and I finally went up to her at the edge of camp, she greeted me quietly and without anger; the wolf was gone from her eyes and voice. She told me that she thought she would hate me, or that she should, but she didn’t. She was angry at me before, she said, and perhaps she  _ should _ be angry at me, but she wasn’t, and this surprised her. She said she was not going to be self-destructive, now.

(Though she insists to this day that she was simply trying to get the book, and trading herself for it seemed a way to both get the book and to get access to Herod and his castle. I still maintain that there are better strategies, her plan has ever so many holes, and I do not think that it is the whole of the story. But perhaps she truly believes what she says, and perhaps she needs to believe it.)

We spoke, and I shared my fears and feelings, how I could not walk this path alone,  _ would  _ not; the moons in Isenhjem were enough and more than enough, and I cannot do it again. She nodded slowly, and said at last, “You need me as much as I need you.” 

So there it is, I suppose. My fate is tied to Hildr’s and I am traveling with her now, as I write to you by the light of our campfire. I will serve these people as  _ táltos _ even though it will not be in any formal capacity, they are no tribe or clan, and none will use that word for me save perhaps Hildr. I am committing at last to the  _ táltos _ path. I will write to Sunwing and to Stonefeather and ask for the initiations. I have written to Hildr’s tribe-brother, too, asking of the rituals of their tribe, and perhaps I will train with them for a time, should any of their elders remain on the near side of the mists. 

Hildr has asked me to help her grieve her fallen brother. I will speak to her most trusted people this upcoming gathering in Dragonhold and gather them together for a ritual to honor the beloved dead, a Horse Tribe tradition of sharing mourning and memories that Sunwing taught me. 

**Addendum**

I hope you do not mind: when I overheard Hildr talking of you, very positively, to others in Dragonhold, I could not help but jump in excitedly and say that you were like a sister to me. It is true, you know; you were closer to me than my mother’s daughter Yllona, and we were rather more alike, both outside the normal rhythms of our tribes, outside the social circles held by those not marked by the ancestors and the spirits. Even my own siblings treated me distantly, looking at me like I was something foreign or strange, though I do love them well. 

You never looked at me that way. I was not  _ different  _ or  _ other  _ or  _ marked,  _ with you. We were simply students of the same path, sharing the same struggles and puzzling over the same lessons. No one else ever teased me or joked with me or went on foolhardy adventures with me except for you. 

So I hope it is not overstepping to have called you my sister-of-sorts. It was the best way I could think to describe it. 

Do write back and let me know of your adventures! I hope all is going well in Acarthia and Yalinth. 

If you see Elder Stonefeather, please tell her I think I finally got my fool head straightened out. I will write again after the next gathering here in Dragonhold. 

  
  


Üdv, 

Orsolya Kaukapäivä Mielittu  
of the clan of the Hawk  
of the tribe of the Horse  
of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Orsolya and Hildr' chaos resurrected, there was a player error in a misunderstanding of the resurrection mechanic - you don't resurrect without someone invested in the Circle starting your resurrection, whereas Hildr's player thought it was that if no one started your resurrection in 10 minutes, you would chaos resurrect on your own. (This might have been a regional variation from Hildr's home chapter of San Francisco to keep players from having to wait in the circle for ages for a healer, though I'm not sure.)
> 
> \-----
> 
> Chapter titles are all songs from my music playlist for Orsolya, which can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLGF-5xg2AgUcyuFUgaZHN8cYb40pCzYgr).
> 
> The parts of the playlist covered in this chapter are:  
> * Traveling the frozen wastes of Isengard: "City of Marrow" by SJ Tucker and "Hanging Tree" by Blackmore's Night  
> * Meeting Hildr' and learning her story: "Fire on the Sea" by Heather Alexander, "Wolf Totem" by The Hu  
> * Following on Hildr's self-destructive mission: "Empty With You" by The Used  
> * Orsolya on suicide watch, and its aftermath: "You're Not Alone" by Erutan, "Rescue" by Lauren Daigle, "Healing Chant" by Heather Alexander, "Windbringer" by The Crüxshadows  
> * Orsolya thinking that maybe this is what her destiny actually is: "I am Moana (Song of the Ancestors)" from Disney's Moana
> 
> Chapter title from "Empty With You" by The Used
> 
> I haven't lost anything except my mind  
> Expect a thousand confessions that you will not find  
> I try to take off my head sometimes,  
> Because I can't escape the memories  
> I haven't lost anything except my mind (except my mind)
> 
> You could be empty  
> And I can be right here empty with you  
> Or you could be hollow  
> And I can be right here hollow with you  
> If you want to say goodbye to everything,  
> I could say goodbye too  
> I can be right here empty with you.
> 
> I haven't wasted anything except my time (except my time)  
> Forget the treasures we burned because we'll be just fine  
> I try to take off my head sometimes  
> Because I can't escape for the life of me,  
> I haven't lost anything except my mind (my mind)
> 
> You could be empty  
> And I can be right here empty with you  
> Or you could be hollow,  
> And I can be right here hollow with you  
> If you want to say goodbye to everything  
> I could say goodbye too  
> I can be right here empty with you
> 
> Instead of going underground  
> Instead of calling them out  
> Instead of running 'cause your still breathing  
> Instead of swallowing lies  
> Instead of buried alive  
> Let's twist the knife 'til they can't stop bleeding  
> If you need a confession, I'm guilty  
> Let's chase the knife 'til they can't stop bleeding  
> Do you think I feel sorry? Forgive me.  
> Let's chase the knife 'til they can't stop bleeding  
> Instead of going underground  
> Instead of calling them out  
> Let's chase the knife 'til they can't stop bleeding
> 
> You could be empty  
> And I can be right here empty with you  
> Or you could be hollow  
> And I can be right here hollow with you  
> If you want to say goodbye to everything  
> I could say goodbye too  
> I can be right here empty with you


	2. Even on the Darkest Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Orsolya in Dragonhold, to Alis in New Acarthia, sent via hawk and dated May 419.

Szia Alis - 

Two letters in as many months! I am surprised and proud of myself.

You will be amused and full of consternation, I am sure, to hear that I was made a member of the town council here in Fort Alliance (for that is the actual current name of this place, as it turns out - more on that later). On my second gathering here, no less. Fear not; I removed myself within a week. I am not entirely sure why I accepted the appointment in the first place. It was a stressful gathering and I was not thinking clearly.

**Friday evening: Lizardfolk, Corruption, and Vines**

It seems this town was built long ago, perhaps by the Ashen Maidens, a warrior order comprised entirely of women. There was a seal upon its walls, holding something within or below. There are artifacts and ruins beneath the surface, and its residents are finding more about it every Gathering that ensues.

This is important to know for what follows.

The town was attacked by enraged lizardfolk as darkness fell. They spit poison, and their claws and weapons are toxic; I used up all of the Cleanses, Purifies, Awakens, and Poison Shields I had memorized. It seems that they honor the Gorgons, and one of the Gorgons named Andromeda had been killed and scalped for a bounty by a pair of human rangers last gathering. 

I remember her. I did not realize her significance at the time; there was a fierce battle at the April gathering, and she had cried out, so I went to her. She seemed lost, fumbling, and frightened, but unharmed. She had a cloth over her eyes, obscuring her vision; I thought perhaps she was blind. There were others staying well back from the front lines, and I placed her with them before returning my attention to those who needed healing. That is all I saw of her.

It seems that Squire Hildr’, Aden Corso, and perhaps a couple others had told her that she would be safe here, that they would protect her. Her mother is a powerful corrupted Gorgon who lives in the swamp, and she was seeking asylum and mutual aid, not wishing to be corrupted as well. 

A note about corruption: I think it is something to do with the plague, though I think Andromeda’s mother was more corrupted by chaos rather than having the plague itself. This corruption-plague is sweeping the land. It lingers in the body, sometimes even after resurrection, and nothing appears to cure it. The victim becomes more tired and sleepy as the plague drains their spirit. Over the course of a couple weeks, black moles appear in a triangle pattern around the victim’s wrists. At the end of the two weeks, the victim suddenly coughs up blood, then falls over dead in seconds, before arising as an undead ghoul, hungry for living flesh. 

I have not witnessed it myself, but I have heard horrifying stories. For example: in March, a Selunari family was taken with corruption, and slaughtered down to an uncorrupted infant by the Vex Mortis, who are this land’s equivalent of the Vigilant. Hildr’ told me the tale, told me how they had checked all the people there for corruption, and this mother and her infant were yet uncorrupted; how when Hildr’ was occupied with combat, one of the Vex Mortis tore the infant from its mother’s arms and killed it, assuming it to be corrupted, or perhaps not wishing to take chances. Hildr’s woman-at-arms, a Selunari woman named Karenza, killed the grieving mother at her own request. I am sure you know that Hildr’ is passionate, opinionated, principled, and does not forgive easily. I suspect she will be forever mistrustful of and embittered towards the Vex Mortis after that.

I was writing of the gorgon Andromeda, however. 

She came willingly to Fort Alliance, and she had blinded herself so as not to petrify anyone, disarming herself effectively. She was vulnerable and she came in good faith. She chose to trust the people of this town. But there was a bounty for a couple of gold listed on the bounty board in the tavern, for the scalp of a gorgon - the bounty did not say which one - and these two greedy humans cared more for gold than for honor or peace. They killed her when no one was looking, and she resurrected in her mother’s circle - so now there are two possibly corrupted gorgons to worry about, rather than one and an ally.

And now we are at war with the lizardfolk and the gorgons, which is just what we needed while being at war with Baron Herod and the barony of Litimore, all the while preparing for the awakening of the Outsider called the Mother of Monsters. All thanks to human greed.

After we fought off the lizardfolk, vines began coiling outward from a great tree in the field near the tavern. The vines climbed the walls, tearing at them, and attacked the people in the field. We slashed and burnt at the vines and at the tree, which finally defeated them for a time. It seems the vines were related to Beryl Stranglethorn, a thorn dryad who had invaded Fort Alliance briefly at the April gathering - I do not think I mentioned it in my last letter, as it seemed such a small thing amidst the personal, emotional chaos of that gathering. She seemed unaffected by my spells or by the weapons of others, then, and was haughty and taunting; her vines attacked us then, too, and she said she’d claimed the forest as hers, which had belonged to another dryad who was a friend of the people of Fort Alliance.

Did I mention it was raining? Absolutely pouring, all of Friday night and into Saturday morning. Everything was drenched. I miss the desert-dry steppes.

**Friday evening: Shattered spirits**

Things quieted after that, for a moment. I began setting up a space for the ritual of Honoring the Dead (the text of which is included in this letter; it is one I learned from my néni Sunwing in my home clan in the Horse Tribe, Mielittu), calling upon the aid of Hildr’s woman-at-arms and oath-sister Karenza. We had not quite finished, however, when Bekkur asked that the Healer’s Guild hold a meeting. 

It turns out that the Healer’s Guild had been proclaimed officially a chapter house of the guild of the White Flame just that gathering, rather than an aspiring chapter house still earning its charter. Bekkur is the chapter-master, or local guildmaster as we would say in New Acarthia. So I waited for the guild members to gather together.

Yet before that could occur, we began seeing flickering movements out of the corner of our eyes, just beyond sight. And one by one, people began going absolutely mad.

Or, more accurately: Berserk.

These were shattered spirits, black crackling forms that whispered intangible things, words I could not quite make out. If you listened too closely, you went mad and blindly attacked everyone around you. Only those of us with healing arts could perceive the spirits. They were unaffected by any spells, and weapons passed right through them. Valentine and Hildr’ tried holding a seance to communicate with them, and the spirits seemed to calm briefly, clustering around the two of them, but they could not speak, and Valentine could not make sense of it; and then the spirits left the upstairs room of the tavern that we were in.

We quickly learned to avoid them, and most people began divesting themselves of any weapons and magical energy so as to have nothing to harm others with should they go berserk. Hildr’, however, has sword and shield linked to her spirit, and thus could not put her weapons away. I think she went berserk at least half a dozen times or more, and she laid into many people in the town with her blade, including myself, until they fell to the ground. (Fortunately, once her head cleared, she ran back to my dead body in the tavern and used a Life spell on me before my spirit quite went to the circle. It was a near thing, however.) 

It was chaos. We were helpless against them.

That is when someone noticed the mirrors. 

In every mirror, in every building, there was a woman. In some, she beat against the mirror with a soundless scream until her hands bled, and when you looked away, she disappeared. In others, she wrote messages in her own blood, cryptic words like “that is not me”. She was not always there, but you sometimes saw her out of the corner of your eye, or you heard something behind you and looked, then turned back to the mirror to see her there. She looked tormented, exhausted, agonized, wounded, wretched. It was both terrifying and heartbreaking all at once, and there seemed to be nothing we could do.

I had, not long before, encountered someone who’d held a Blissful Rest scroll for several moons and was looking to give it to someone who could use it. I have been looking for a Blissful Rest scroll to cast upon the tent, because Hildr’ is wracked by nightmares every night, and sleeps very poorly. Bekkur wondered about the possibility of an Outsider of nightmares when we spoke in April, but I think that is looking too far arcane for what is often a very simple thing: Hildr’ has many, many dark memories to fuel her nightmares, and she carries a great deal of guilt, torment, and unprocessed grief. 

So I accepted the scroll and we said we would discuss payment later. Then I found myself taking refuge in the Earth circle along with many of the others within the town, as the fractured spirits could not cross into the circle, though they slammed against its barriers, testing and whispering and seeking to do so. Dryrot, one of the Bleeding Eye and one of the few other ritualists within the town, asked around for a Blissful Rest scroll, thinking he might cast it around the possessed mirrors to put the spirit within to rest, suspecting it might be tied to the fractured spirits.

I did not think this would work. Yet I knew Hildr’ would be unwilling to accept the scroll’s use for herself if it instead could benefit the greater good, as slim a chance as it was. (She later said that she did not think it would work on the spirits, and would not have begrudged me keeping it, but I did not know that at the time.) So I begrudgingly handed the scroll to Dryrot, who said he would try to replace it should he ever come across another copy of the scroll. He cast it upon the Celestial Guildhall (why not the Earth guildhall? It seems to me that would have been far more beneficial to more people; ah well, it is too late now), and the woman in the mirror did indeed disappear from that mirror… but the shattered spirits were unaffected, and the woman’s tormented soul remained in the other mirrors around the town. 

I remain annoyed that it went to waste, and Hildr’ will have many more sleepless nights when I had just had my hands on something that could have relieved the nightmares. Frustrating indeed.

That evening is a blur of chaos and horror.

I remember: Hildr’ charging into the Earth Guild while many of us crowded into the circle. She stalked up to Askeksa, the stone elf chaptermaster of the Celestial Guild, as he sat outside the circle, and she struck him so quickly that he fell before he could so much as summon mana to his hand. Then she drove her sword deep into his chest with all her weight, delivering the killing blow; she did not seem to be in berserker rage. I gave Askeksa my last remaining Life spell, and then I went to pursue Hildr’, aghast. But the others within the room blocked my way. A short spell later, Hildr’ came running back into the guildhall, and exclaimed with relief to see Askeksa alive, apologizing repeatedly; it seems the fractured spirits had Charmed her and commanded her to kill Askeksa. Thus they were not only whispering people into a blind berserker rage, but also using other Command magics.

I remember: Unable to escape a spirit’s whispers in the cramped confines of the Earth Guild, I found myself engulfed in the blind unthinking rage of the berserk Command. I summoned chaos, Alis. I tried to attack the dryad in front of me with the forces of chaos; she is another of Hildr’s women-at-arms, by the name of Valentine. She was quick thinking and interrupted my every incant with a quick dagger blow, until I had no more magic and could only flail at her with my bare hands. So perhaps I did not successfully cast chaos, but I still drew the filthy magic of it through my body and my spirit. When I no longer had spells to cast, people dragged me into the Earth Circle. I do not recall if someone cleansed me of the berserk, overrode its effects with another Command, or simply held me until it passed… but it passed, and my mind was my own again, and I knew what I had done. My skin crawled with the memory of chaos coursing through me, and I fell to my knees in horror and shock.

And suddenly Hildr’ was there - I do not know when she arrived - kneeling with me, her arms around me, and I found myself sobbing into her shoulder, trembling like a leaf, relief at her survival and the comfort of her touch warring with the tension in my body and the guilt and the horror of it all. I found myself babbling my fearful thoughts: that I had broken oath, that I had cast chaos, she should not be touching me, I was unclean from it… she gripped my shoulders, grasped my hands, forced me to meet her gaze. Her voice was urgent, emphatic. She told me, again and again, that it wasn’t me who tried to cast chaos, in response to my blank stare and numb protests. “It is not. Your. Fault,” she said, almost like a command, and she would not release me until I at last nodded wearily. I turned her words back upon her when she verbally lacerated herself with guilt for how many of the town she had felled in berserker rage - if it was not my fault that I tried to cast chaos under the effect of the spirit’s whispers, neither was it her fault that she cut down her allies.

I remember: Cursing myself as a poor excuse for a shaman, that I could not protect against these spirits, nor lay them to rest. I have never been skilled with the spirits of the dead (if dead they were - I discovered recently that they were not, that they were instead the shattered fragments of an Outsider), despite the lonely months of laying the dead of Isenhjem to rest; it is the living that I have always been more at ease with. Yet does this not be the very sort of task I am trained to deal with? Is this not part of the shaman’s role? I felt absolutely useless, and as though I had failed my teachers. 

Somehow, impossibly, we only had one resurrection the entire Gathering. I was certain we were all going to die that night, and I was certain we would die the next day, and the next night, and yet we just barely managed to survive every time. It was an awful, helpless feeling. I do not despair easily, Alis, but I felt despair on more than one occasion that gathering.

**Friday evening: Grief and cleansing**

In the tense quiet within the Earth circle as the shattered spirits faded away and we waited, fearing to hope, to be certain they were truly gone, Bekkur passed a brilliant gem to Hildr’ and another to me. He said he had wanted to do a ceremony, formalize everyone’s membership in the Guild, but the frenzy of dark spirits prevented that. He said, too, that the town council was looking to make him Warden, leader of the battlefield, and so he could not also be the Healer’s Guild representative. He said he wanted me to be the representative. I agreed, without thinking it through; I knew that at least I could mediate between the disparate factions.

I mentioned the ritual of honoring the dead, thinking it would need to be postponed due to the rough night and the late hour - it was well past the midnight bell - but Karenza, Bekkur, Valentine, and Saoirse said that it felt more timely than not, and they wanted it to happen. So, not having told Hildr’ what to expect, amidst her protests, we all walked down to the lake where I’d set up the ritual in an open-sided shelter. 

I explained the ritual (which, as I said, is included at the end of this letter) and its purpose. I told Hildr’ that I did not think she would have agreed to come, had she known; she seemed to agree, yet chose to remain nonetheless. I will not share the details of the ritual with you, as those stories are not mine to tell, and I would not betray their trust. Suffice it to say that the beloved dead were well honored, meaningful oaths were taken, and all within the circle grieved with one another for their beloved dead. 

They expressed feeling a great closeness with one another afterwards. I watched, listened, and felt as though I had done well in my task, yet I did not feel included in their closeness. I am yet a stranger, and I was the facilitator of the ritual, not the participant. I do not know if I am separate because of that, or if I held myself separate, expecting it. 

What _is_ mine to tell is that I honored Illya, and my oath to her was to hide no longer from my path, to seek the initiations that I have so long avoided, and to serve these people and this land as best I can in the taltos-shaman role, though they do not have a formal place or recognition of it. So I suppose I shall be visiting Yalinth sooner rather than later.

When Hildr’ and I retired to the tent after all the ritual was complete, we spoke as we often did of the day’s happenings. Quietly, subdued, I shared that I felt terribly unclean and tainted from my berserk-induced attempts at casting chaos. I knew I needed purification, yet I did not know when I could do such a thing for myself, and I would rather not go to sleep thus tainted. Hildr’, fortunately, is trained in many of the ways of the Earth, in cleansing and in healing, though it is not her primary focus. She offered to provide purification. I accepted, grateful, and she spoke over me while wafting incense smoke around the tent, around my form, purifying with fire and air. I found the tension in my body unwinding for the first time that entire evening.

We spoke further after that; Hildr’ had been summoned by her Baroness Gwenevere Thane earlier in the gathering, and I asked what happened. It seems that Hildr’s liege lord from the Maelstrom heard of her actions from the April gathering, when she threw her life away to (she continues to insist) “get the book”. He wanted to strip her belt for it. What happens in these humans’ heads, Alis? I cannot understand why someone would learn of the pain and grief of their squire, their **student** (for is not a squire the student of a knight? Their charge, their responsibility?), and toss them aside for actions performed out of that blind grief. Rather than mentor them as is their **sworn duty** , counsel them through these challenges of the soul that all warriors must surely face. What manner of irresponsible, cold-hearted, duty-forsaking people are these “nobles”? Illya would never have done such a thing to us, and in fact supported and scolded us through many a mishap. Because she cared, and was a responsible teacher.

Nonetheless, Baroness Thane proved herself again to be one who does not forsake her duty nor her charges. She is the proxy for Sir… whoever, I cannot even remember his name, whilst Hildr’ is in Dragonhold and far from the Maelstrom. She intervened, and told Hildr’ that she is on probation. One more such misstep, and Hildr’ will lose her belt and chain, her squire status. I can respect Gwen Thane. She does not abandon those who are hers.

It is difficult to trust that this will always be so, however. I have only ever learned that the nobility hold to their world only so long as it benefits them, and will find ways out of it should it become too inconvenient. Yet Hildr’ claims that Baroness Thane is different, and I hope she is right - for her own sake.

**Saturday morning: Stupid goblins. Stupid squires. Also some bandits.**

On Saturday morning, too soon after falling asleep, we heard a commotion outside. The distinctive whine of goblin voices. The clash of steel on poor-quality goblin-steel. Hildr’ wanted to get up and help. I protested, saying that it sounded like it was simply goblins, and the town would be fine. But she is ever driven by an overblown sense of duty, even when to my mind something falls far outside the bounds of her duties, and she insisted on strapping on armor, shield, and sword, and leaving the tent.

“It is goblins,” I said, tired and cranky as I can often be in the mornings. “It is Saturday morn of a gathering. It is **always** goblins. If it is not goblins, you can hit me with your sword, I do not even care.” 

It was, of course, only goblins.

She stepped outside the tent and was immediately struck by a rusty dagger, easily deflected by her armor. Wielded by a goblin, it goes without saying. She struck it down swiftly, and I called through the walls of the tent: “Was it a goblin?”

Grudgingly, she said, “Aye. One goblin.” Not even multiple goblins. 

“I told you,” I said.

“But there are vines everywhere; something **is** wrong,” she said, and seemed almost pleased or smug about it. 

I groaned. “Are the vines **doing** anything?” No. Of course not. They had simply grown throughout the town and buildings, and could be easily cut away. Yet Hildr’ insisted on heading down to the tavern to check on everyone.

Stupid squires and their stupid duty. I grumbled this aloud at length as I struggled out of bed, pulled on my own armor. 

(I have armor now, loaned to me by Riggs the mystic wood elf, because Hildr’ was pushing her unwieldy scale-and-chain shirt onto me and insisting I wear it for my own protection. It is unbalancing, uncomfortable, and will not stay put; I hate it, but fortunately I was able to acquire a set more suited to me. Someday I will find an Arcane Armor scroll and make myself a suit of **that** , and then no longer need to wear unpleasant metal armor. But scrolls are remarkably hard to find in this town, for some reason.)

In her rush to “help”, Hildr’ left her squire belt in the tent, which she has said she must not be without. What with her being on probation as a squire, I thought she might not want to forget that. I sleepily hiked down to the tavern, where there were obnoxious vines but no sign of Hildr’, and made myself a plate of breakfast while I was at it, grumbling all the while about being up this early because of stupid squires with their overblown senses of duty. 

I found her at last, back up at the cabins, and thrust her red belt at her. I fear that I was perhaps unkind in my irritable, sleep-deprived, not-yet-awake state, and said something along the lines of, “You forgot your **leash**.” Which, given Hildr’s history, is crossing a line I do not actually want to cross. Perhaps this is one of the seeds of our argument on Sunday morning. Yet in that moment, I knew resentment for Hildr’s path, a path which I still do not fully understand.

We tarried in the tent a time, attempting to return to sleep and failing. Upon leaving the tent, the town was attacked by bandits, whom we defeated handily. I walked around checking on people, and found Hildr’ talking with a disarmed bandit, trying to learn his motives. He was candid, resigned, and spoke of family without apparent expectation. Hildr’ asked if I had coin to give him, and I provided a gold, which she gave to the man. He seemed surprised; she said to take care of his family, and to choose his employers more wisely in the future; she implied that if he attacked the town again, she would not hesitate to send him to the circle. He said he would not, that he simply wanted to leave, and she let him go.

(A note on coin: Hildr’ does not keep coin for herself. She keeps (almost, not quite) enough for survival’s sake in this coin-driven land, and gives the rest to town or Healer’s Guild or the needy. Already she was doing this, and then she went to further extremes when the squires of the town were told they needed to work on the tenet of Generosity. So now I insist on taking the bulk of her coin, which still gets spent for the good of the town, but at least I can make sure she is fed – which in and of itself is for the good of the town, as she is one of its strongest defenders.)

I found myself… I do not know what the right word is. Surprised and pleased? Proud, even? A feeling of… being glad to be associated with Hildr’, in that moment, honored that my path had wound with hers. It seems, from what she said later, that this was not her usual behavior, that she normally would have been more ruthless. Yet after the April gathering, she is trying to be more measured, less reactive. 

When Corso heard about this later, he objected to her mercy. He said they were mercenaries and cutthroat, and likely lied. He thought she may have endangered others, or that her mercy was foolish. She shrugged and said she would rather take the chance on mercy and kindness. I felt again that strange kind of almost-pride. 

**Saturday afternoon: Lizardfolk, Council, and actors**

Speaking of Corso… I truly do not understand the relationship between Hildr’ and Corso. At times she seems to hate him, to blame him for many things that have gone wrong, to want him dead. At other times she seems to respect him greatly, and even be friends, to have care and concern for him. I found them talking at the end of the April gathering with a solemn kind of camaraderie, working together, after Hildr’ had been intent on attacking him not a day before, for example. 

Regardless: He felt responsible for how we were now at war with the lizardfolk, as he had given his word that the gorgon Andromeda would be safe and protected, and then she was killed in the supposed safety of the town walls. He presented himself to the lizardfolk or the gorgons (I am not too clear on the story and may have details wrong) in an attempt to atone and an attempt to make peace, offering a life for a life. 

It did not work. They left him at the town gates with his throat slashed, and a local dryad found him barely in time to get a Life spell cast into him. Hildr’ was concerned and furious in turns when she found out, and I still cannot tell if it was because of the futility of his attempted sacrifice, because she cares about him, or because it somewhat reflected her own attempted sacrifice in April.

Also, Lord Brightstone was turned into a stone statue by Andromeda’s mother (I think that is who it was, at any rate). Sometime in the morning on Saturday, I believe. It will take gorgon blood to return him to flesh; many are hoping that they can cleans Andromeda of corruption and convince her to donate some of her own blood to reverse the gorgon curse. Some think that will not be enough blood, and it will take the gorgon’s death. No one has succeeded at any of this yet.

This is important to note, however, because it meant Lord Brightstone was not available for what happened next.

Reports arrived of lizardfolk marching upon the town. Thousand Bones, chieftain of the Bleeding Eye (of whom I will speak more later), said he would command the field, though after the initial organization and once the battle began, he said nothing, and with no one actively commanding the field from a vantage point behind the lines, we quickly fell into disarray. And fell, before the lizardfolk and the many poisons we knew they used, after he ordered a shieldwall in front of the bridge. I did what I could but I could not keep everyone up; the night before had burnt many of us out of all counters to poisons. I fell to a Sleep gas in short order, when I tried to get to a fallen Saoirse who I feared was dead. (It turned out that she, too, was merely Slept.)

The battle looked to be lost… and then vines erupted from the ground and pulled everyone off their feet, adventurers and lizardfolk alike, tying them to the earth. Stranglethorn the dryad walked out of the forest, saying, “Now do you understand? You need me. I will be in the tavern to discuss my terms with your Council.” 

I suppose it was a longer speech than that, but I was asleep, and can only report what was reported to me. A few people moved quickly among the fallen while she spoke, cutting our folk free from vines and slitting the throats of lizardfolk. Astonishingly, none of ours died. 

I headed to the tavern to do my first duty as Healer’s Guild representative on the town council. Hildr’ came as well, despite no longer being on the Council, mistrusting that things would be handled as they ought. (I cannot blame her.)

It was… enlightening, to say the least. Stranglethorn said that the Mother of Monsters, an Outsider who tore her way through the planes once before in this land, was coming. So have said the Bleeding Eye, a company comprised mostly of high orcs whose entire purpose is to defend the land against the Mother. Stranglethorn said we cannot stop the Mother, who would come to this plane to corrupt this place and all of Fortannis, if it can; it seems that is what Outsiders do (and again, sounds much like Uruk’d’slen). The dryad said as well that a thousand years ago, before the dryads slept and before she herself slept, she fought the Mother in this place and she won. 

She said that her terms were thus: We give her Fort Alliance, and we arrange a meeting between her and a dryad ally of the town (Aurora, perhaps? I cannot remember now). 

It seems Fort Alliance is strategic to fighting the Mother, who will likely travel down from the wild forests of Vuka, and must pass through Fort Alliance to enter the rest of these lands. On inquiring further, Stranglethorn said that “give her Fort Alliance” means that in all things related to the Mother, we follow her orders absolutely; in everything else, she cares not what we do. 

I spoke then, saying that we needed a representative of the Bleeding Eye, who we did not control and who would not necessarily abide by agreements made in that room, for their purpose is to fight the Mother, and I would not risk the whole town for a dryad’s misunderstanding about the factions within it. Someone went to fetch a representative and brought back instead the entire Bleeding Eye; ah well, it did no harm for them to be there, I do not think.

We asked, why would we not simply ally, why go this far? For it seemed we were on the same side in this, all of us wanting to fight this Outsider. She clearly did not trust that we would listen without a show of power and force, however. She said repeatedly that **she** did not need **us** , but **we** needed **her** if we were to survive this battle. 

Several other members of the Council (especially representatives of the Merchant Guild and Celestial Guild) began protesting, arguing, confronting this arrogant powerful person without an ounce of tact or any understanding regarding how to engage with something much older and more potent than oneself. I spoke now and again in the way I had expected to: as translator and mediator, to smooth misunderstandings and aid in negotiation, concerned this would be unsalvageable given the prickly pride of the Fort Alliance residents.

The exception was Saoirse, captain of the Company, which as near as I can tell is something like the military force of Fort Alliance. She maneuvered skillfully through the heated discussion, soothing egos and placating concerns, delaying decisions and defusing reactivity. I was most impressed. I would not like to have Saoirse positioned against me on a tribal council; she could match cunning with the cleverest Raven elders I have ever met. 

I can mediate. I can translate and negotiate. This kind of subterfuge and manipulation, however… this is not how our people **think** , this is not a skill I ever needed to learn and perhaps I never can. Even if I wanted to, which I most certainly do not; I am no elf nor human, to play political games in a minefield of mistrust and control. I miss the direct honesty and the openness of free-folk. 

I **can** recognize it when I see it, however.

That was the moment I realized that the skills I **could** provide as a town council member were not at all needed, and my lack was far greater: I knew nothing of this town’s history, nor do I know nearly enough of its many challenges and strengths. I am only just learning its people. But who would take the seat if I did not? 

In the end, Hildr’ pointed out that the town council could not give Stranglethorn what she asked. That we did not own this fortress, it was Lord Brightstone’s to give or not, and it was not our authority to give it away. Yet he is currently stone. His heir (or so I understand) is Lord Duvok, who fortunately arrived shortly after we spoke of him, but neither could he give over the fortress, saying that it was Prince Malidor’s lands. Would Stranglethorn truly wish to fight a war on two fronts? Because if the fortress were taken by her, or even given to her without the knowledge of Prince Malidor, the rest of the kingdom would take it as a hostile action and come to retake their fortress. 

She saw the wisdom of this, even in her arrogance. We came to a compromise: She would aid us in de-petrifying Lord Brightstone, and we would arrange a meeting between her and the dryad ally. So concluded, Stranglethorn left us to our agitated internal discussions.

Thousand Bones said then that his mother had disappeared among the lizardfolk tunnels, and he feared for her safety; he wanted to gather a band of seasoned adventurers to rescue her. Hildr’ and I volunteered, as some of the more seasoned adventurers in this town (how strange is that?); we asked first if it could wait until tide change, as so many people were depleted of spells and abilities; he wavered, then said it almost certainly could not. We would reconvene near the cabins after the noon meal and after gathering more supplies.

Duvok requested a private meeting with Hildr’ as we all filed out. I resolved to wait for her, concerned that this was more nobility nonsense, but in the meantime, I stopped by the merchant table downstairs from the council room. Lizardfolk meant poison, and I was all out of Cleanses and Purifies. I bought the merchants out of their purifies, cleanses, and antidotes as I began feeling a sense of gloom and despair: going into the lizardfolk tunnels with too few spells seemed suicidal. I did not expect that we would survive… yet it seemed important to try. 

Afterwards, Hildr’ and I walked up to the cabins where we were to meet the Bleeding Eye. There was a lot of deliberation, people were still organizing and gathering resources; this lasted for an hour. Thus we made further preparations. 

In the privacy of the tent, Hildr’ was no longer the discouraged, pensive squire she had been all gathering. She lit up with excitement, saying she had agreed to an opportunity that was a good fit for her, and she was happy about it. When I inquired further, she told me she’d sworn an oath to tell no one; all she could say was that it was a good opportunity, and she might leave on her own at times. 

My stomach dropped, my heart sank. I did not blame her for agreeing to this, or taking oath, or keeping oath. I would not want her to break oath to share it with me. All the same… I found myself foolishly feeling wounded. Hildr’ noticed and asked if I was angry with her; I said no, because I was not, but that I worried for her. Would she leave to do whatever this is, and then I would next see her in the Earth Circle as a spirit, and never be able to learn what happened? Not be able to help, or provide counsel, or heal? Not to mention how she would be carrying the stories of whatever happens all within her, shared with perhaps only one other. Such things poison the mind slowly, until the person is all coldness and rigidity, or exhaustion and loneliness, or a fractured spirit. 

(It may be that I will be permitted to know, as I advocated for this with the person who required the oath. I will not be able to share with you, of course, and would never put such a thing in writing regardless.)

Also, Askeksa the stone elf, head of the Celestial Guild here, gave me a spare Investment scroll. I owe him one in return, should I or the Earth Guild find one. Between Hildr’ and I, we had the components to cast it; Dryrot of the Bleeding Eye took some time to invest me into the circle. High orcs are both like and unlike us in their ritual style. There was bloodletting, which I have seen Sunwing do, to attune me to the circle. There was a droning chant, which is familiar to me, but in a language I do not know. Dryrot used no tools outside his voice and body, though. From what he said, he sometimes does use a drum, but that seems to be all - that part was different.

So I am invested in the Earth circle on my second Gathering, and on the town council. (Well. No longer on the town council. But you understand what I mean, I expect.)

At last the Bleeding Eye finished their preparations, and we headed to the lizardfolk tunnels.

The lizardfolk claimed to not know of a high orc in their tunnels, but we were following her tracks and knew she had come that way. Petra, the former dark elf (now surface elf) that I mentioned in my last letter, held up the headdress that Bones’ mother had lost - it was how we knew her to be taken. The lizardfolk screeched in fury at the sight; apparently it was part of a gorgon, and thus sacred to the lizardfolk, so they attacked.

I have not had a coordinated fight like that before, and it was in some ways very satisfying, even as I feared we would be overrun. The tunnels were tight and winding. Two people with shields stood at the front, with spears and longswords behind them, and then the healers. Celestial casters and archers flung their respective missiles into the lizardfolk. After each skirmish, we regrouped, repaired armor, and rotated out the shield fighters, so that no one became too tired or too spent. It was brutally efficient. Hildr’ fell once, as did another of the shield wielders, but we healed their wounds immediately and they did not meet death.

At one point, we came upon a lizardfolk hatchling being defended by the adults. The adults threw chaos, so I do not regret their deaths. Yet before I could stop her, Petra slew the hatchling as it called pitifully for its caregivers. “That was a hatchling! Why did you do that?” I asked, furious and aghast. She said that the bloodlust overcame her, the excitement of battle, and she did not think. “Do not kill any other hatchlings,” I told her, which she agreed to with a shrug.

We did find more hatchlings later on. I felt increasingly uncomfortable that we were killing their caregivers, though the lizardfolk adults were visibly corrupted with chaos. The hatchlings were as yet uncorrupted, despite the ground all around them stinking with taint, and all around a clutch of buried eggs. 

As we walked onward through silent, still tunnels, a green figure appeared before us. It was Thousand Bones’ mother… unhurt, walking freely, and looking pensive yet not in any kind of distress. She said that she was saying her goodbyes, that because our tribe killed the gorgon, she was no longer welcome to help hatch lizardfolk eggs or care for lizardfolk hatchlings, and it would be her last time in these lands.

“Our tribe?” one of the group protested. “It was not Bleeding Eye that killed the gorgon!”

She looked at them as if they were idiots. She said that the town of Fort Alliance was a tribe in the eyes of the lizardfolk, and the divisions within that tribe mattered not. She walked back with us to Fort Alliance, talking solemnly with the high orcs as Hildr’ and I lagged behind.

I felt again that sense of despair, though this time it was not for our lives - it was a sense of discouragement, futility. All that death - for what? To what end? Thousand Bones’ mother was free all along. What would happen to the hatchlings, with no one to care for them or protect them? Thousand Bones’ mother said that they would fare better left in the tunnels than in our care, but what did we leave them to? Again, I did not feel regretful for the deaths of the corrupted ones, and yet it still felt like such a waste, so unnecessary.

Hildr’ seemed in a dour mood as well. Perhaps it was the aftermath of the fight through the tunnels, or perhaps it was sleep deprivation, or perhaps both. We sat near the tavern, watching the town, quietly talking of feeling directionless and purposeless. We walked about, collecting more of the strange dream-inducing fruit that we had been asked to gather for the Healer’s Guild. Bekkur joined us, and we all started up towards the cabin to retrieve the spoils of last gathering’s battles, which had not been split amongst the town as there was no time for it.

(Hildr’ and Fredrick, a hobling merchant, fought about this over lunch earlier that day. Fredrick seemed to think that Hildr’ stole the town treasure for herself, or for the Earth Guild, and thus was just like all the greedy people that Fredrick dealt with in Fredrick’s home. So we went to retrieve the coin to give to Fredrick, as had been intended all along; all was forgiven after that.)

On the way there, however, a trio of flamboyantly dressed humans encountered us as they walked towards the tavern. They reminded me very much of noisy birds during nesting season. They paused, stared at Hildr’, and one of them exclaimed, “Oh my Earth! It’s HER! It’s Squire Hildr’!” Another looked at her, and then at the first one, and said, “You look **just like her** , oh my goodness!” They continued in this manner, insisted that Hildr’ join them for dinner and answer all their questions, and carried Hildr’ in their wake back towards the tavern as she looked at Bekkur and I helplessly, confusedly.

“You are on your own for this one,” I told her, laughing. She seemed in no danger from this lot. “I will finish our errand and find you at the tavern.”

Upon returning to the tavern, I found myself regretting my cavalier attitude.

It turns out the trio were actors. There was a play written in the Empire, you see. Commissioned by Baron Herod, I expect. It is called “Our Hero Herod”, and tells the story of his wedding to Baroness Thane, if I am not mistaken. It portrays Hildr’ as the villain and paints Herod as the hero (as one might expect from the title). I know little about it except that Hildr’ finds it infuriating, not for its portrayal of her, but for its misrepresentation of events and its erroneously positive portrayal of Herod. 

I hear it is a popular play in the Empire. 

Hildr’ was trying to explain the truth of things to the actors, and answering their ill-aimed questions with quickly fading patience. There was a moment where I thought she might attack them, or shout obscenities at them - they said something innocently disparaging of Baroness Thane, and Hildr’ started to rise to her feet. I started to speak, trying to head off the situation before Hildr’ did something she might regret (or that might cost her the red belt she wore) -

\- and then Aden Corso was there, casting Charm upon the actors. He convinced them to leave in short order. Hildr’ was displeased, as she wanted to convince them of the truth of things, but I do not know that she would have been able to do so. I think Corso’s actions were timely, in this case.

Dinner was… eventful. I cannot share the details of one incident - suffice to say that I think I shall carry an Amnesia potion or two with me from now on. The levels of subterfuge and politics in this town, Alis. It is not something I entirely understand, but I do know the need for tact and secrecy. I acquitted myself well in de-escalating the situation, at least, and was complimented on it by Saoirse, which I took as high praise coming from her.

At another point in dinner, Riggs (I do not know if you have met him? He is a mystic wood elf from Acarthia) was playing their small stringed instrument. They began playing “Red is the Rose”, and Hildr’ jumped as if bitten. She tensed, stared at Riggs, and the stare became a glare. 

“Play a different song.” She grated out the words through her rigid throat with seeming difficulty.

Riggs started to ask why, to object, and Hildr’ interrupted him, even more emphatic: “Play. A different. Song.”

So he did. I do not know what that was about, but clearly it has painful associations for Hildr’. 

(The next morning after breakfast, several townsfolk were singing together in the room above the tavern. They trooped downstairs, still singing different songs. Petra began singing “Red is the Rose”, and I shook my head at her. “Please do not sing that song,” I said, gently. She shrugged in her casual way and switched songs; Hildr’ nodded at me in what looked like thanks.)

After dinner, Hildr’ went back to the tent to speak with Fredrick privately, probably about their earlier argument. I joined them rather later, and we ended up napping for a time, exhausted.

We awoke to cries of “Fall back to the circle! Retreat to the Healer’s Guild!”

You know as well as I that this means things were dire indeed. We threw on our armor and grabbed weapons as fast as possible; Hildr’ was quicker than I, and ran out of the tent before I could join her. I gathered her cloak, squire belt (the number of times she leaves the tent without it, after saying she must always wear it, I swear…), and my own things, and at last made my way down the winding hill.

Where the field below the tavern was blackened with the dark fractured spirits from the night before, yet more solid than before, and with vicious long claws that weren’t visible earlier. They clustered about a small knot of townsfolk, and my heart lodged in my throat.

I dropped what I was carrying next to the tavern and began running across the field. I hoped I was not too late. I needed to get there, I knew how little healing the town had. Thanks to my rest, I had spent nothing since tide change. Yet as I reached the halfway point, the spirits turned towards me as with one mind. 

A shout that was almost a scream rang across the field. “Orsolya! RUN!” It was Hildr’, and she sounded _afraid._ Desperate, even; I had never seen that in her, and it rattled me, yet I obeyed. 

Earth forgive me, I turned and ran.

The fractured spirits moved slowly, and I quickly outpaced them. They lost interest, I think, or returned back to the small group. I could only imagine that they would be overrun. I had to find a way to get to them, to help.

I found a young dryad (whose name is escaping me) and a friend of his on the deck of the tavern, retreating from another shattered spirit. The dryad paused as we turned the corner, and said, “I hate all this running. I’m going to try something.” He cast Sanctuary upon himself, and he turned the corner to face the spirit. I followed, ready to disable him if he were Berserked, or heal him if he fell.

The spirit slashed at him, and he was unaffected.

 _Brilliant._ I looked out to the field and saw two prone forms; I turned back to the dryad and his friend. “Do either of you have life spells?” They both shook their head. I took a deep breath. “I do. There are people down on the field, and I need to get to them. Can you distract the spirits?”

They agreed readily, and found a third adventurer as they walked to the field. I looped around and cast Sanctuary on myself as the spirits all thronged towards the dryad’s group. I passed unbothered to the prone forms; one was indeed dead, one of the Brothers with their strange blackened eyes - Axel, if I am not mistaken - and I brought him back with a Life spell. The other was merely unconscious. 

Hildr’ was nowhere to be seen, and I feared the worst. Yet none of the equipment on the field was hers, so she must not have resurrected… I saw the mark of a circle where the knot of townsfolk had been, and breathed relief. They had been protected, then.

Someone pointed me to the tavern, saying Hildr’ went that way, and I traveled as fast as my winded lungs could handle. Hildr’ stood on the deck, outside the upstairs room, along with two Ashen Maidens - one was Glenn, who I’d met before; the other looked eerily like the woman in the mirrors, and seemed in some distress. 

Relief flooded through me. I offered healing as needed. Hildr’ introduced me to the other Ashen Maiden, Dame Domnova, who Hildr’ pulled through a mirror in the circle I had seen in the field, and who indeed was the tormented woman in the mirrors. 

We went at last into the room above the tavern (I should learn a name for it, something more shortened than this description I am using), and there were three red-garbed humans within a lit circle before us.

Hildr’ stiffened. “Crimson Inquisitors,” she said grimly. I had not heard of them before. It turns out the Crimson Inquisition is an order within the Empire; she said that they are powerful and ruthless. They killed many of the Ashen Maidens. 

They were divining through time in a way I have never seen. They said something about the wrong time; they meant to look back to when the Mother was last defeated, to learn how to defeat her again, yet they did not go back far enough. They argued amongst themselves, speaking convoluted things about time magic and the errors in their spellcasting.

And then one of them… changed.

I alerted Hildr’, who had been talking urgently with the Ashen Maidens. The changing one began speaking about being a Herald of the Mother, an Outsider of a kind. That the Mother was coming and we could not stop it. We readied ourselves for disaster, for combat that we could not possibly win in that moment, as spent as we were… and then the Herald departed the form of the Inquisitor.

“You know what we must do,” said one of the other Inquisitors. The possessed Inquisitor protested, began offering alternatives; at last he slumped, defeated, agreeing. He cast greater magicks than I have seen: he cast the formal ritual Obliteration upon himself as if it were a simple spell, and he collapsed.

His body did not dissipate.

We learned, then, that Dame Domnova had been trapped in the mist-void between shards, along with the Herald of the Mother that spoke through the Inquisitor. They fought there, trapped there together for Earth only knows how long. The Herald had been broken into pieces, and was slowly manifesting in our world as the shattered spirits whilst Dame Domnova pounded on the other side of the mirrors; it was no longer shattered, and had been loosed into our shard when Dame Domnova was pulled through the field mirror. 

The Inquisitors told us then that the shard Dame Domnova had lived on with her husband 200 years ago… was no more. Was gone. Was void. 

She fell to her knees. Her husband was gone, the world-shard she had loved was gone. Glenn tried to tell her that she was not alone, her sisters in the Ashen Maidens could help - Dame Domnova turned coldly to Glenn. “You are not my sister,” she said, her voice like brittle ice. “These are not the Ashen Maidens I knew. I do not know you.” And then she turned and left the room.

Hildr’ and Glenn followed. I waited behind to gather what information I could from those remaining; it was not much more than I already had. Then I went downstairs as well, to find Glenn and Hildr’ trying to talk to a grieving Dame Domnova, who was trying to wrap composure around her like armor and only somewhat succeeding.

I know when it is not my place to intercede. I have had little enough interaction with the Ashen Maidens, and I have not earned trust with them. I stood out of earshot to instead steer other townsfolk away from them, asking that they not be disturbed. I followed when they left the tavern, still staying out of hearing range. 

I did pull Glenn aside for a moment, however. I asked that she and hers watch Dame Domnova closely. I said that people who have lost as much as Domnova has may do unwise things in the blackness of their grief, and not to assume that Domnova would be safe and sane merely by her behavior. She said that the Ashen Maidens would be caring for Domnova and would not neglect their duties in that regard.

It was the most I could do in that moment.

The two Ashen Maidens left, and Hildr’ looked shaken. I could guess as to why: Outsiders, with whom she has had terrible encounters and from whom she has had terrible losses; the Ashen Maidens, for whom Hildr’ took on responsibility, and their pain; and all the battles fought that night.

I was wrong. It seems Hildr’s sworn-sister and woman-at-arms, the Selunari woman Karenza, had resurrected. Hildr’ felt her spirit in the circle shortly after she left the tent at the beginning of all this, just as Glenn came to ask her aid in the field. Hildr’ made the difficult choice to leave Karenza to be resurrected by another, and to follow Glenn instead. And of course Hildr’ felt wracked with guilt for it, and was full of worry for her sister.

As we spoke, and as the Ashen Maidens turned the corner, Karenza walked down the path past them as if summoned. Hildr’ did not say anything; she noticed Karenza before I did and ran to her, tackling her with a fierce embrace, admonishing and apologizing all in the same breath. I turned away to give them privacy, hearing a sob from Karenza. 

“What’s happening with them? Are they okay?” asked one of the adventurers. He started to move towards them; I blocked his way.

“Give them privacy,” I said. “They will be well enough.” 

He pushed the subject, prying at it; I remained firm and insistent, and he finally walked away. Finally Karenza and Hildr’ rejoined me, Hildr’ still apologizing for not being there to resurrect her, Karenza telling her that she made the correct choice.

That marked the end of the night. We slept, though nightmares disturbed us both, disturbing dreams from the view of a butterfly under glass. I suppose that was the result of eating the fruit. We’d hoped for something more insightful; it seems terrible surreal dreams were all it gave instead.

**Sunday**

On Sunday, Hildr’ arose before me as is usual at this point. I encountered her when I began my trek to the tavern; she was speaking with a young dryad, the one Stranglethorn wanted to talk to. The two of them had already had their meeting that morning, and the young dryad said she was all right. That Stranglethorn was her mother, and wanted her to fight in the war against the Mother, though she was no warrior. Hildr’ reassured her of her worth, and she left seeming encouraged, if still shaken.

At the tavern, things were quiet. I read the notice board and saw the charter for the town council, which I thought would be a good idea to read. In doing so, though, I discovered that all town council members must swear fealty to Lord Brightstone. Shock and then fury rose within me. 

I confronted Bekkur. He said he was going to tell me, and that he thought I would have more luck in convincing the council and lords to take an oath to the laws of the land instead of to one of their titles or one of their nobles. I considered it, grudgingly, and said I would think on the subject. Yet I was furious, and I felt betrayed. There is no way I will swear fealty to any human noble. I know where _that_ path leads for our people, even if Hildr’ will not see it.

What followed is not terribly interesting in its details, so I will summarize. The town negotiated successfully with uncorrupted lizardfolk, who also agreed to take care of the hatchlings, whose caretakers we had killed the day before. Then a different group of lizardfolk, these ones corrupted, attacked the town. We successfully fended them off, though it cost me another two Life spells (one for Hildr’, who fell to a Doom spell). The spoils of the gathering’s battles were distributed, and I won an auction for a spell storage item, which I promptly placed my last Life spell into, along with a couple other useful spells.

Once we returned to the tent, Hildr’ asked me what was bothering me. I was seething visibly, it seems. I told her about the charter, and said that I would _not_ swear fealty to any nobility. How they were all untrustworthy. How my people had only just freed themselves from centuries of rule by the nobles of Acarthia, who had “graciously” granted us our _own lands_ as a freehold, little better than slavery, certainly not the freedom of our own rule. 

I suppose I was unfair to her, and unkind, and over harsh in my scathing words about nobility. She bit back with sharp words of her own. I asked how she can possibly trust them, why she stands for the way they treat her. I asked what would happen to her should anything happen to Baroness Thane. She refused to consider outliving the Baroness, but finally said she would either remain unsworn, or find another noble worthy enough to squire to. We quarreled until she threw a collar at me, the one from her days as a gladiatorial slave, and told me that she was in no way enslaved to the nobles she served, that she _knew_ what slavery was. 

It shamed me into silence. I swallowed my fury and my pride, and I apologized. We made a sort of peace at the end, though things still stand somewhat brittle between us. I suspect it is not the last time we will argue about nobility and this path to knighthood that Hildr’ walks (although I wonder if these nobles will ever knight a “ _barbarian”_. It is not as if they see us as worthy of any of their courts, after all, and she has been a squire for many years now, and they still demand more of her despite all her sacrifices and selflessness, which they seem not even to acknowledge). 

**A bit of geography and politics - I am sure it will bore you, so I place it at the end.**

I have learned a bit more of the history of this place. First, while it is called Fort Alliance right now, that is a recent change. Before it was Fort Alliance, it was briefly Fort Iron Maiden. Before that, it was referred to simply as the Western Outpost, and as Fort Herod before that, named for the baron who would be Emperor of the Helios Empire, Gaius Herod, and who is the enemy of these lands, and at whose hands the Baroness Gwenivere Thane and Squire Hildr’ have suffered much. It is just on the other side of the White Fang Mountains from Acarthia, at a strategic point between the hot humid forests of Vuka to the north (why the north is warmer than here, I do not know, as that is certainly not the case in Acarthia and Yalinth), the Helios Empire to the west, and of course the White Fang Mountains to the east. There is a swamp immediately to the east of the fort that is occupied by lizardfolk and gorgons, and the Great Black Water immediately to the south. All around are various woods, and hills full of goblins, and the like.

I think Dragonhold might be the region that Fort Alliance is within, but I am still unclear about that - is it a barony? A kingdom? A princedom? A territory? What human kingdom word is used for this land? The organization in this town is abysmal. Nothing is written down - not even the laws here! It seems one of the local lords said he did not want the laws written down, but rather shared by word of mouth? How is anyone to know what is legal or not? 

In my short time within the Council, I was able to at least learn some of the laws, though I am unclear as to if these are finalized or simply proposed. The prince rules, his magistrate is responsible for dispensing justice, the town council and sheriff make recommendations for sentencing. There is a death penalty for murder, breaking/entering, use of necromancy/void magic, slavery/kidnapping, and mockery of nobility (...but of course; cannot have the fragile human noble pride being injured, can they?). The council sentences the other crimes of assault, cannibalism, conspiracy, endangerment, and theft/robbery. Other actions are “inadvisable” though not explicitly illegal, such as arson, banditry, bribery, burglary (would not this fall under breaking/entering?), contempt (...of what?), disobedience of rightful command (is this then nothing to do with mockery of nobility?), embezzlement, extortion, larceny, perjury, ritual assault, tax evasion (I have not seen anything about taxes nor heard what taxes are paid upon), and treason.

Nowhere are these laws posted for all to read. No one seems to really know all the laws. It seems to me a route to abuse power, where a noble can simply say someone has violated the law and never tell them how. It certainly does not seem a way to build any kind of trust. I do not know why anyone follows these nobles. (Squire Hildr’s belt and chain, her oaths to these nobles, still perturb me. We have argued quietly about it, multiple times now, in the privacy of the tent.)

The nobility are confusing as well. Lord Rurik Brightstone is magistrate of Fort Alliance, and these are his direct lands. He is a dwarf, though perhaps was once one of the Free Folk before the magics changed the land, if rumors are true? His heir, or son, or adopted son, or simply named heir, is a human named Robert Duvak Brightstone, or also Lord Brightstone, just to make things even more confusing. Prince Malidor is ruler of these lands, a dwarf from the White Fang Mountains (and perhaps that is where his princedom comes from), and Lord Ruric Brightstone (who may also be called “Rory”?) is his magistrate, in charge of Fort Alliance. 

Except, of course, that Lord Ruric Brightstone is now a statue, so Lord Duvak stands in his place? It is all very confusing.

**The boring part is over now, you can stop skimming the letter here and resume reading.**

I hope you are well. I have heard your invitation to the Yalinth-themed Masquerade announced in the dream realm, so I know that you are at least alive. I am considering coming to the Masquerade for a visit; it is shortly after the masquerade here in Fort Alliance, after all. Do write soon!

Üdv, 

Orsolya Kaukapäivä Mielittu  
of the clan of the Hawk  
of the tribe of the Horse  
of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant songs from Orsolya's playlist:  
> * Grief ritual: "Deidre's Lament" by Heather Alexander  
> * Just about everything else: "Battlefield" by Svrcina and "Rescue" by Lauren Daigle
> 
> Chapter title from "Battlefield" by Svrcina
> 
> No time for rest  
> No pillow for my head  
> Nowhere to run from this  
> No way to forget
> 
> Around the shadows creep  
> Like friends, they cover me  
> Just wanna lay me down and finally  
> Try to get some sleep
> 
> We carry on through the storm  
> Tired soldiers in this war  
> Remember what we're fighting for
> 
> Meet me on the battlefield  
> Even on the darkest night  
> I will be your sword & shield, your camouflage  
> And you will be mine
> 
> Echos and the shots ring out  
> We may be the first to fall  
> Everything can stay the same or we can change it all
> 
> Meet me on the battlefield
> 
> We stand face-to-face  
> With our unhuman race  
> We commit the sins again and our sons and daughters pay  
> Our tainted history, it's playing on repeat  
> But we could change it if we stand up strong and take the lead
> 
> When I was younger, I was named  
> A generation unafraid  
> (For years to come, be brave)
> 
> And meet me on the battlefield  
> Even on the darkest night  
> I will be your sword & shield, your camouflage  
> And you will be mine
> 
> Echos and the shots ring out  
> We may be the first to fall  
> Everything can stay the same or we can change it all
> 
> Meet me on the battlefield
> 
> We carry on through the storm  
> Tired soldiers in this war  
> Remember what we're fighting for
> 
> Meet me on the battlefield  
> Even on the darkest night  
> I will be your sword & shield, your camouflage  
> And you will be mine
> 
> Echos and the shots ring out  
> We may be the first to fall  
> Everything can stay the same or we can change it all  
> (We can change it all)
> 
> Meet me on the battlefield
> 
> Meet me on the battlefield  
> (We could change it all)


	3. Addendum: Ritual to Honor the Beloved Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ritual text attached to the May 419 letter from Orsolya to Alis.

#  **Honoring the Dead**

## Preparation 

  * Inscribe or lay out a circle in stone, dirt, chalk, or rope, no more than 12’ diameter (37.67’ circumference). Ritualist or someone participating in the ritual should ideally have the ability to cast a Circle of Power. Alternatively, a Limited Circle of Power can be spellcrafted for this ritual.
  * If possible, light a campfire within. Otherwise gather candles and lanterns within the center of the circle. Light incense or alternatively, warm some scented oils. (Incense can also simply be added into the fire. Resin incense especially is good for this.)
  * Place a table, flat rock, or other usable surface next to the fire. Provide seating around the fire.
  * Provide alcohol, bread, salt, and optionally cheese or fruit, laid out upon the surface.
  * Provide a memory cup or horn to be passed around for toasting (also drinking vessels for people who don’t want to share out of the same cup).
  * Request that participants bring representations or tokens of their beloved dead, if available. Provide parchment and quill with which to write names, draw signs, or other symbols of the dead.



## Ritual

  
Part 1: Invocation

  * All participants gather within the circle. 
  * Ritualist: **We gather within the Circle to honor our beloved dead. We gather to mourn their deaths, to remember their deeds, and to celebrate their lives. They are gone, yet the loss is ours. We share their memories, that others might know them.**
  * Ritualist may now cast a Circle of Power if desired, or wait and cast it only if danger threatens. 
  * Ritualist: **We call the names of our dead, that they might hear us and be honored. Name the deceased, and lay their token by the light of the fire.**
  * Each person names their deceased and their relationship to the deceased, laying the token by the fire. Ritualist may go first to model the process, e.g.: “ **Ilya Klartsen, shaman of the Raven Tribe of Yalinth, my teacher.** ”
  * This may go around multiple times until no one names anyone else. 
  * Ritualist: “ **I honor finally the dead of unmarked graves, their names unknown, yet they too are our people.** ”



  
Part 2: Toasts

  * Ritualist: **“We toast our beloved dead, sharing memories of them and our gratitude for what they gave us, that others might know them through our stories.”**
  * The cup or horn goes round for toasts to the deceased. (This can be poured from the memory cup into each individual’s cup, depending on comfort level with sharing drinking vessels.)
  * Ritualist begins in order to set the mood and provide an example, e.g.: “ **Hail to Ilya Klartsen, Raven-guided and Raven guide, teacher of generations, wise listener to the stars, she who tended the heart of the tribe. She taught me one season out of every four, for twelve seasons all told, and then for a full year before the ancestors took her home. I remember her kind smile and her firm stare. She seemed ancient and wise and stern to the child that I was, yet I learned too how she could be gentle too, and full of unexpected laughter.** (long pause) **I miss her.”**



  
Part 3: Boasts

  * Ritualist: **“We boast of our beloved dead and our time with them, that others might know them through their deeds.”**
  * The cup or horn goes round again for boasts of the deceased.
  * Ritualist begins in order to set the mood and provide an example, e.g. “ **Hail to the nameless dead of Isenhjem! I found a slain Free Folk camp encircled about their young, burnt by fire elementals, fighting to the last. Not a single one had burns upon their back, for they never turned away from the enemy, save for the ones shielding the children with their own bodies. Hail to the courage of Timber Wolf’s camp. They showed the spirit of the Wolf to the last: bravery, loyalty, and commitment to the pack.** ”



  
Part 4: Oaths

  * Ritualist: “ **We shoulder the oaths of our beloved dead, that others might know them through our lives.”**
  * The cup or horn goes round again for oaths of the deceased. Ritualist may explain further: “ **If your beloved dead has unfinished business, you might choose to take it on now. You might swear to take care of their loved ones, which might even be yourself. Or you might swear to make a change in your life or take on a quest that you believe would honor them in some way.**
  * Ritualist begins in order to set the mood and provide an example, e.g.: **“Hail to Illya Klartsen, healer, teacher, challenger, guide. It was she who would have initiated me from student to** ** _taltos,_** **yet in the moon before my initiation, the ancestors took her home. In my grief, I questioned the rightness of my path, the interpretations of my fate. I avoided initiation until my new teacher turned me out, told me not to return until I was ready to commit to the path. I have turned away from Illya’s training for long enough. I swear now upon my oathring: I commit to the taltos path, I take on the honor and burden of taltos in these foreign lands, far from Yalinth. I will seek the initiations, and run from my fate no longer.”**



  
Part 5: Communion 

  * Ritualist: **“We break bread with our beloved dead and with one another, that we might share a meal and a drink with them once more. If you wish to share verse, song, or dance to the honor of all those gathered here, living and beloved dead, you may do so.”**
  * Participants prepare a small plate for each of their represented dead, placing them in front of the representations. Ritualist will demonstrate first, and explain what they are doing. 
  * Ritualist, while preparing the plate: “ **I serve this meal to Illya Klartsen, who always loved the taste of mead as much as any warrior after a victory and could drink half the warriors into the ground, and who was so fond of [** one of the foods on the table **].”** Ritualist places the plate before their dead’s representation.



  
Part 6: Farewells

  * Ritualist: **“We bid farewell again to our beloved dead, that they may rest, and that we might unburden ourselves of words unsaid. Think carefully: What have you wished you told your beloved dead? What will you regret leaving unsaid after this night, if you do not say it now?”**
  * Each person names their deceased and says any last words, taking back the token as they do so. 
  * Ritualist begins in order to set the mood and provide an example: **“Illya, beloved mentor, who taught me even more than I yet realize. I feel your memory whenever I sit before someone’s hurting heart. I remember your patient lessons whenever I inscribe a circle and gather the power of the earth around me. I am sorry that I have failed you these past years, dishonored your memory with my doubting; I was lost in grief and fear, and it’s unworthy of everything you taught me. I wish you could be here now. I have so many questions, there’s still so much I don’t know… … ...but of course you’d only help me find my own answers, wouldn’t you? I hope I can become someone you’d be proud of.** (long pause) **Hail and farewell, Illya Klartsen. Soar free in the skies beyond.”**



  
Part 7: Closing

  * Ritualist: **“We have honored our dead this night through memory-tales and oath-taking, sharing our love of them with one another. We have feasted with our beloved dead and bid farewell. We have celebrated them and we have mourned them. They are gone, yet they live in our hearts and our deeds. They are gone, yet never forgotten. Hail to the beloved dead!”**
  * Ritualist takes the circle down at this point, if applicable.
  * Ritualist leads participants out of the circle. 
  * Ritualist and any assistants or participants who want to help return to clean up. 




	4. Calling You Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Alis in Yalinth to Orsolya in Umbrasa, dated June 419, delivered by messenger. (Written by Leora, Alis's player.)

Dear Orsolya,

I am so sorry for the belatedness of this letter. I swear I’ve sat down to write it a dozen times and then something else comes up and I get distracted. To say that a great deal has been going on since I saw you last night would, in fact, be history’s greatest understatement. Let me begin by saying that I received both of your letters, and I am glad to see you have found a place you feel you can do good. Likewise, I believe you are a very positive influence on Hildr, who has often seemed to me to be a bit lost and lonely. I believe you could do excellent things for her.

Good grief, but where do I even begin? I suppose I should start with saying that I am officially a Scion, now. I ran the Hunt last May, and did my very best. Parzivel, who is very honest with me always, says I did a genuinely good job and have been a good addition to the group. I try hard. You know I do. When I set my mind to a thing I put my entire heart into it. I suppose that is why I am so often hurt by my passions. In any case, one of the rules is that we’re not allowed to speak about the ins and outs of the hunt, but you may rest assured it was quite a challenge and, I imagine, quite strange to watch from the outside.

It’s odd that you mentioned touching chaos. I have been through a similar situation some years past. I might have mentioned it. There was an incident a few years ago where I became undead and I can still remember how the chaos felt on my fingers. No… not chaos. Necromancy. For even now, I believe they were different magics. It’s important to note that I became undead on purpose. I am not sure if I would make the choice again, but… the fact is that Parzivel was already undead and when the situation started looking like it was permanent, well… there was no way I was living the rest of my life as his enemy. I know it isn’t a choice most people would make. Certainly not sensible people. But most people are not bound by their promises the way we are. I am Sworn to him. I am his. I would go to great lengths to honor that vow. But, that said, I agree with Hildr; it was not your fault. The sensation of chaos on your fingers will go away in time.

On a separate topic, I have been working very diligently on writing a book about Yalinth and our people. I grew very tired of people using racial slurs such as "barbarian" to describe us, having no idea about our culture, ignoring our heritage and our customs and our hierarchies only to expect us to respect theirs. I had never seen an Acarthian noble show deference to a Chieftain, for example, nor indeed even bothered to ask me how one would do so. And, of course, as Emissary and a teacher _and_ a shaman, I am uniquely qualified to answer such questions for them. Not that they’d ever even dream of asking because that would mean removing their heads from their rectal cavities long enough to care about anything but Acarthia.

Anyway, it occurred to me that the best way to introduce them to our culture would be to write it all down and let them read it, and perhaps encourage positive change. I also hosted a much smaller version of our Spring Festival in April which seemed to go over quite well. Then again, what else could be expected from Yalinthian cherry wine? I released an early copy of the book to Darius of Rivervale last gather in order to help with the negotiations (I’ll get to that, later). I am sending a copy to you, as well, although I intend to add your documentation on the burial rites, since I forgot to include them initially. I hope you will enjoy it and, perhaps, share it with your version of Acarthians. Just not Thousand Bones – fuck that green-skinned jackass.

If you are wondering why I dislike him so much… well, it’s a bit of a complicated story. I don’t need to explain all that much, really. I mean, you’ve met him, and you know my loathing for people who pretend to be important without putting in the effort to matter. But that aside, I find that I loathe him simply because he tries too hard to be likeable and is, in fact, immensely unlikeable. Add to that the fact that he cornered me last year and demanded that I simply stop disliking him and be his friend (in front of witnesses, no doubt; you can imagine what a tempered reaction he got), and you have someone who had better hope he never encounters me alone on a dark road. He seemed dead set on forcing his way into the Scions's good graces for a while, too. That one, at least, seems to be good and buried. I do, however, find myself reluctantly fond of Petra because her desire to learn reminds me so much of myself at a young age. And I was relatively fond of Corso, too, until I read your letters.

It sounds to me as though many of the things going on there are like the things going on here, at least politically. For instance, there is always some Noble jackass or another trying to take over every possible thing here, too. I must admit that going into last month's negotiations, I fully expected to be ignored as emissary and have the discussions overtaken by the local nobility. I was pleasantly surprised that our people seemed very reluctant to let that happen, and as a result, I was dragged (or rather almost dragged) into the entire thing. At least I wasn't kicking and screaming. I'm not sure how much of the goings-on you've heard about, so I will start where all stories must, at the beginning.

As you are undoubtedly aware, one of the only projects Valdyr and I ever worked on together as joint emissaries was the cessation of tax paying from Yalinth to Acarthia. I am sure you also recall that the late King Moorfield decreed that our hunting grounds would be returned to us, but there had to be an agreed-upon border of how  much of that land would be ceded back to Yalinth. Unfortunately, he went and died before that could happen and, of course, his son is a monarchist ass who told me to my face that he wishes his father had not ‘let our people go’. As if we were property, ourselves. In any case, the situation panned out that he became the next King which had me quite worried after the things he said. But he surprised me by declaring through letters to me that he had every intention of honoring his late father's wishes

That unfortunately left the arduous task of negotiating a border between Yalinth and Ungsteen. Our people did what they often do and jumped the starting line without realizing that such negotiations were necessary. Unfortunately, several of the local ranchers and farmers were killed in the skirmishes that happened on the border. There was a great deal of accusation saying that our people were invading, and of course our people were just as angry with that accusation because they were simply hunting on our ancestral hunting grounds. I am sure you can imagine that it turned to a mess rather quickly. Many ducal guards were also killed in these battles, and even after going through all the discussions I went through, I was never quite able to ascertain which side started the fighting to begin with. It was eerily like the fight that started all these problems those hundreds of years ago, and all of that over a dead deer. 

I was called upon by the council and the King to use my status as emissary to call a cease-fire between the two peoples. Naturally, this involved a great deal of letter writing, cursing at no one in particular, and heavy drinking. My letters to the council went unanswered, which has been something of a standard since I became emissary. The only solution that I could see was to simply travel home and demand their attention face-to-face, which is exactly what my father would do. I find myself both horrified and amused that I am his daughter after all. Aponi is much more like my mother.

And so, after receiving a letter from the royal steward (which was handed to me directly by his messenger), which stated that the King had every intention of honoring his father's word but simply desired that a solid border be negotiated, I realized that this particular debacle fell squarely upon my shoulders. With Valdyr gone (probably dead… more on that, later), I am the sole Emissary to the entire council and since Acarthian nobility certainly isn’t going to represent  Yalinthian  interests, that job falls to me. Not that it isn’t one I’m more than happy to do. My first step was to write a letter to the council telling them that all violence at the border had to cease immediately if we had any hope of a peaceful resolution to the problem. Our people were justifiably angry that they had been told they could hunt in our hunting grounds and then accused of poaching. Many of our people were killed in the battles, as well. I made sure to deliver proper burial rights to them while I was home. Although, technically I am still home.

Having then presented with this teaming problem, I set out immediately following the April gather to try to corner the council in Vanirtum and make them speak to me. I took Parzivel and Nytillit with me (oh, hell… real Nytillit. More on that later, too) in case I needed thug types. It was a long and frustrating journey, and we made several stops along the way to speak to villagers and locals and gain as much rumor as we possibly could. And then, upon arrival, I realized that my journey had been completely pointless! Apparently, the duke of the duchy that the Barony of Ungsteen is within, Duke Tasis, had written to the council  directly and invited them to Darbyton in Ungsteen to negotiate the border.

Naturally, at this point, I'm thinking, why even have an emissary?

I was justifiably infuriated. What a complete waste of travel.

I was informed by one of the shamans that the elders had already gone ahead and encouraged to follow them. Well of course. What the hell else was I going to do? Parzivel decided he had better get back home to run his school, but left Nytillit with me in case I had need of her. The two of us went on toward the meeting, but like I said before, I felt fairly convinced that my going was pointless. Naturally, when I expect to be important, I usually end up forgotten, and when I expect to be forgotten, I end up being the most valuable resource in the room. True irony, that. We met with a representative Friday evening upon arrival who said that someone would be coming to meet me at breakfast the next day. Having nothing to do but wait, I settled in expecting to have a quiet evening. Instead, shortly after being told about the Saturday morning meeting, Darius came in to announce that the Duke and his party had been jumped on the road.

Shortly after that, a spirit appeared in the resurrection circle. Arikaya set about trying to bring the spirit back immediately and was perhaps 2 minutes into the process when a second spirit appeared. Darius asked me to step in and help with the resurrection of the second spirit, so I began to do so. Once more, shortly into the process of my resurrection, another spirit appeared as well and Panax had to step in, too. Both Arikaya’s and my resurrections failed, but Panax was successful. The woman who came back was a Ducal guard who announced immediately that the party had been attacked by  Yalinthians!!!

Naturally I was immediately livid and demanded further explanation. She told me they had been dressed in our garb and had acted like our people. I told her it could easily be a ruse, and everyone agreed that we needed more information, luckily.

A large group of us rushed out to where the ambush had taken place, fully expecting to be ambushed ourselves. We found several bodies, two of them were Freemen. Others were ducal guards. None of the bodies were the Duke himself. Kendrick found a trail leading off into the Woods, and we all followed it where we were ambushed not by people but by Howlbears. Arlen (a Scion who I don’t believe you’ve met) discovered to his delight that if he hooted at them, they would hoot back. This turned out to be a very useful skill as it allowed us to track them through the dark beneath the trees. Anyway, after following the trail for a time, Kendrick spotted a group of 6 people who walked into a circle and then spirit walked away. Having gleaned no additional information, we gathered the bodies and returned to the tavern

It was then that Darius suggested that I cast the bones to find out more information. Naturally, I am always happy to do so, and so I set about trying to get a vision of what had occurred on the road. 

It only took a moment for me to ascertain that it had in fact than our people who had jumped Duke Tasis and his escort, and that the Duke himself had been kidnapped. The Freemen who attacked all had dark feathers in their hair, but they were not Raven feathers. I realized immediately that these must be Eagle Tribe members.

I had just learned from the contact who came to speak to me that the Eagle Tribe is newly formed, made up entirely of Oathsworn, and are a group of purists who believe they have been blessed by the earth. I had no idea at this juncture why they would do something like attack a Duke and put the negotiations at risk, but naturally I put that on my list of things to find out. Having no additional information, and the hour being quite late, I decided to retire in order to be prepared for the meeting in the morning.

Come breakfast, I was greeted by an emissary from my own tribe. It was here that I realized how very wrong I had been when I assumed I would be useless. In fact, he handed me a full meeting itinerary for the day , which basically listed back to back meetings with various tribes who were unhappy with the negotiations as a whole. Some of them - Bloodfeather, Bear, and Pike to be specific - seemed perfectly content not to send representation and trust whatever the council decided was best. The meetings that had been set up for negotiations were with Horse tribe, Raven tribe, Timber Wolf tribe, and finally the White Stag. The Raven who I met with also mentioned that he believed that the River which currently passes through all three estates would be a perfectly acceptable border, as it would return a respectable chunk of our ancestral hunting grounds without taking too much away from the ranchers and farmers that currently live in those three estates.

For each meeting, I was together a different type of people. The first, Horse tribe, requested that I gather the strongest warriors. The Raven tribe asked for strong healers. The Timber Wolf asked for craftsman, and the White Stag asked for destined. I did my level best to get a variety of people for each meeting, so that I could get a variety of perspectives and make sure that the delicate feelings of the Acarthians were not damaged.

The first meeting was with your tribe, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how well that went. You know your tribe, and their penchant for wandering and following the herd. Obviously, the nobles were rather perplexed and had to have all of that explained to them. Unfortunately, Jozsa did not exactly represent the horse tribe as a group of reasonable individuals. Her largest presented complaint was with fences, and she ended up requiring that the entirety of our ancestral hunting grounds be returned to us, which stretches all the way down to the end of the Howling Woods. As much as I would like to see history reversed, even I had to admit that that was a rather unreasonable expectation. She did say she would be willing to renegotiate if the other 3 tribes would agree on a different border. Unfortunately, this was one of the meetings that went well.

From there, we went on to a meeting with my own tribe. The person who met us was the same one who had come to breakfast which I feel made negotiations somewhat easier. Sadly, the Baroness of Tiatar open her mouth quite wide and shoved her foot all the way down to the knee by suggesting that perhaps they keep hold of those lands and simply tax us for their use. Why yes, your excellency, this does resemble square one. This idea was immediately reproached by Darius who said that was exactly what we had just changed. The baroness then suggested that we simply be allowed to rent the land, which was an equally stupid suggestion. Most of the other people there, including the Raven representative, seemed perfectly content with the River as the suggested border.

After a brief break during which I was allowed to eat, it was off and running again to the meeting with the Timber Wolf. They began by saying that they wanted the border to be 2 miles South of the River, which still seemed like a more reasonable request then the entirety of the estates. After a bit more discussion, he lowered his request to one mile south of the River. Then, when discussion turned to the Howling Rage disease, he asked if we had come up with a cure for it. When I said that we had, he said he would agree to a border of the River if we were willing to provide their tribe with a copy of the cure recipe. Naturally, I readily agreed. By this point, I was feeling fairly optimistic that we might just come up with a reasonable solution for all of this mess.

The last meeting of the day, or so I thought, was with the White Stag. It was a rather challenging and negotiation because when we arrived, the Chieftain said he did not want to speak to me but rather to the destined. Fortunately, some of them were very intelligent and then some very good suggestions. After they said that they didn't see why we couldn't simply share, they seemed to come to terms with the fact that even if our people don't need borders, their people do. They said if a border must be in place, the River seemed like a perfectly acceptable one.

If it seems that this story is about to end, Orsolya, you are very wrong. In fact, here it where it becomes awful, and here is the thing that I think will have you packing your bags to come to Acarthia immediately.

At dinner, discussions began for how we were going to get the Duke back unharmed. It came out that Darius had discovered something really, truly awful. Not only had the Eagle Tribe taken him to cease negotiations, but they had somehow found a way to put a dark entity inside him. I do not feel right putting his name on paper, but you will know the entity of which I speak. The ancient, thousand-faced enemy of our people who was briefly first defeated by none other than forefather Yalinth. I was immediately horrified. Darius suggested that the best tactic would be to simply charge their encampment and wipe them out to be able to take back the Duke. It was then suggested that perhaps I do another vision in order to confirm whether that was an acceptable plan or not.

I did as I was asked, and in a rare moment, shared the vision with everyone sitting at the table with me. It turned out that the necessary fight was more complicated than we had anticipated. Isn't it always? There were 4 circles in the vision, and an animal totem represented in each one, one for each of the present tribes. 

The idea was to defeat each totem intern in order to weaken the enemy inside the Duke to be able to defeat him. The only way to defeat the Duke was to stab him with a weapon made by the four tribes present. Each one had to donate one part of the sword and then it had to be forged. Not only that, but it had to be wielded by someone born of Yalinth. There were only two of us at the gather, and the other one was a Destined. There was no way I was going to allow him to do that in case there was significant backlash. We all remember the story of what happened to our forefather when he stabbed the same entity. I was fully prepared and willing to accept that fate if it meant finishing that foe, even temporarily. But I was afraid. It's odd, fear. I'm still not used to feeling it.

So, I set out immediately for the encampments, taking Arlen and Nytillit along. On the road, we were met by a representative of the Eagle tribe, believe it or not, who asked me very nonchalantly if I was on my way to the meeting with his Chieftain. I had not been aware that the meeting with them was serious, although it had been briefly mentioned that morning. I said I would come but did not return to town together others in case it was a trap. Better to go into it with two Scions then an entire group of people who could just make it worse. We walked into the tent and spent approximately 3 minutes there before I determined that they were completely fucking crazy. Not only had they allied with the thousand faced enemy intentionally, but they had done so with the purpose of wiping out everyone except the oathsworn in order to take back Yalinth and Acarthia, too. They told me I was not of the earth, they told me that they did not believe they were corrupting the land and that they were making the right choice. 

Thrice, I asked them to surrender the Duke from that entity's control and return him to us, and thrice they denied me. I told them as their emissary I could not allow this to stand. They were displeased by the use of the word allow, but is my job to make such statements now, as frightening as that is. We left without further negotiation.

I gathered the parts of the sword, delivering copies of the recipe for the cure to howling rage to two of the four tribes as I went. I made them promise to spread it to the other tribes as well. It was the Timber Wolf tribe who did the forging of the long sword. It really is a beautiful blade, a lovely and poignant representation of our history and our people. And I carried it into battle like I was the first-generation daughter of Yalinth himself.

It was terrifying. I was sure I was going to die. Going to die without getting to say goodbye to you, or my father or Aponi, or my Unahu, Parzivel… or anyone. But I was willing. I was ready. It is the job of leaders to stand up and fight for those who are weaker… who cannot fight. I would be a leader.

The fight went as planned, and with all four totems defeated, we spell upon the Duke. He was beaten down, with me at the front of the battle (stone and sea, can you imagine??). Then, when he was near to death, I steeled my resolve, and slid the long sword through his ribs.

And Thousand Faces was forced to flee!!!

No blackness. No shattered weapon. Just me, a sword in my hand, and a dead Duke at my feet.

Having vanquished the enemy, at least for now, I cast a life spell upon him and sent him inside where he would be safe while we finished the last of the undead. Afterward, I found myself holding a sword that will now undoubtedly be a relic of our people for years to come.

The Duke came to breakfast the next morning and I sat down with him to go over what the tribes wished. He was honestly surprisingly reasonable and was willing to give more than even I hoped for. Not only was he willing to agree to a border at the River, but he is willing to extend our hunting rights to the edge of the howling Woods, although that property would still belong to Acarthia, technically. He's even willing to limit the amount of hunting permits given to his own people so that our people can do most of the hunting , and will decide those numbers of permits based on communications from the council about what types of herds need thinning the most that year. He wants their people to still have full rights and access to the gem mine that's in the upper most corner of the existing Estates but is perfectly willing to open trade and work with us in exchange. In addition, we made it very clear that any people who want to stay where they are would be welcome into our culture and their lands, although they would obviously be expected to follow our laws instead of theirs if they do decide to stay. Likewise, if they decide to leave, the Duke has agreed to financially assist them in doing so. Overall, I think it's a very agreeable negotiation and compromise. I only hope the council agrees with me and we can put all this struggle behind us for a time.

I did find that I was rather surprised at how racist Darius truly is, and how affronted he is by the idea that the people he now represents stole that land from us to begin with. He got very tired of hearing about it. I think he is afraid to face the truth of the matter. He was not alone, though. Many of the nobility seemed very uncomfortable with that knowledge, and perhaps even slightly skeptical of our origin story. I’m not sure what’s so difficult to believe; it isn’t as though they haven’t seen dragons of their own.

My goodness, this letter is already long enough to rival yours, and I still have things to tell you. I will start with Nytillit. We discovered accidentally last year that the woman that we thought was Nytillit was a magically and surgically altered Stone Elf spy by the name of Athena. Gillian and I took it hardest, I think. We had not known the real Nytillit so for us, Athena was the real Nytillit. It was… awful. I had to watch Parzivel kill her twice, and there were two other times I did not see. Through a series of very exhausting visions, I came to discover that the real Nytillit was being held on a chaos shard which we thought was part of Valarion. We set out to rescue her in February and accidentally brought all Acarthia with us. Oops. It’s a rather long story, but we did manage to get her back. She and I are still figuring one another out, and although I rarely admit it out loud, I still miss my friend. She was a spy, and she did volunteer, but they had so broken her to make her act convincing that she truly believed she was Nytillit, in the end.

And then there’s Valdyr. I have not seen or spoken to him in over a year. That is very unlike him. I've tried to send letters but have gotten no response. During the negotiations, I asked his Chieftain if he had heard from him and that is when I found out that he was sent on a mission that he never returned from. The Chieftain still seems to believe there is hope, but not much. It is my belief that he is truly dead, and I am in private mourning for him. That is one of the reasons I came to Summer Trade in Yalinth rather than returning home to Charming. Parzivel would be glad of his death, and I cannot face that right now.

There are other small things that I should tell you. One is that I have a pet snake who occasionally speaks to me and tells prophecy as well. I believe she was human, once, turned to a snake by the cultists who have since then banished from our lands. Her name is Laurith. I have also purchased a war dog for myself, who is half great Wolf and have some sort of Shepherd dog. His name is Ohanzee. He is only a few months old now, but already taller than my knee. I expect he will be quite huge by the time he's done growing.

I do hope to see you soon. I'm sure there is much I've forgotten to tell you, but my mind is so frazzled these days. There has been so much going on, and so much of it my responsibility. I am tired, my friend. It is nice to be among our people again, to breathe the air of home, to feel the familiar energy of the earth all around me. I love the scions, and I feel that I am Valarian just as much as Yalinthian, these days, but there will always be something about returning to one's roots that feels right.

I would like to hear about the transition to Oathsworn. It did not happen to me, as I'm sure you guessed. Likewise, my father was unaffected by the change, but my Chieftain was. It seems to me that about 1/3 of the population has become oathsworn. I shudder to think how many of those willingly joined the Eagle tribe before we manage to eliminate them. They have been declared an official Public Enemy of Acarthia, Yalinth, and Valarion. I cannot abide what they're doing, and I will not let them survive as they are. It speaks against everything we are taught to fear and respect.

Do you think if you come to visit, you will bring Hildr? I would love to see her. It's been such a long time since I got to catch up. You should come to the Saturnalia if you can, it is going to be very reminiscent of home in the best possible ways, and it would be nice to have another one of my people around. Although the new one, the Destined, is a Pike. He has the stupidest name I've ever heard, though: Archibald Stillfinger. We've been trying to convince him to do a naming ceremony to change it.

I believe this letter has rambled on quite long enough. I will be here at home until it's time to go back for the next gather. Perhaps I will purchase some Vanirtum lace while I’m here to add to my Saturnalia outfit. just a few final things before I sign off, however.

Firstly, in case it wasn't clear do not trust Bones. He is the backstabbing Viper who will use you until you are no longer helpful and then attempt to manipulate you into being helpful again. Secondly, if you can find out more about Aden, I would be eager to hear it. He claimed that he was the property of the Bleeding Eye for some time, but when i was angry on his behalf, he changed his story. I would like to know the truth, and i don't think I'm going to get it from him. Third, if you do decide to come this way, please be careful on the roads. The Howlbears are very active this year, and the adults are very formidable foes.

I wish you all the best, as always, and look forward to hearing from you again.

Stone and sea guide your path, my friend,

~Alis

P.S. I keep having dreams about standing in a circle of fire. Outside the circle our faces of people long dead. My brother, my mother, Illya. What do you think it means?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to avoid use of the word "shaman" when possible, as 1. there's supposed to be "no religion" in Alliance LARP*, and 2. it's rather appropriative. I use the term táltos for the equivalent in Horse Tribe, despite the religious connotations, as it's at least from my own heritage (Hungarian) and the cultural context Horse Tribe is inspired by (nomadic steppes cultures). I also use the term "Raven" (as in, one from Raven Tribe) instead of "shaman" when talking about the equivalent in other tribes of Yalinth, as a Raven often takes that role in the various tribes of White Stag, Timber Wolf, Pike, Sky Bear, and even Horse (who strive to provide their own táltos). However, other players still use the word "shaman", such as the author of this chapter's letter, and I don't feel comfortable altering the text of someone else's writing.
> 
> * No overt religion, anyway. This rule dates back to the 1980's Dungeons and Dragons panic where evangelicals decried it as demonic, Satanic, etc. I have a lot of issues with the rule, and have participated in some forum debates around it, but I don't write the rules. So there's a lot of working around the religion rule in order to have faith, belief, spirituality, and other such things that are integral to culture and much of human experience.
> 
> From the Alliance LARP rulebook/players guide:  
> "One of the quickest ways to get your character history rejected is to draw too heavily on religion or religious themes. Many people decide to name their characters after obscure pagan gods or lightly gild a myth for their character histories. This is not appreciated, and sometimes it can be offensive. The Alliance attempts to remain religion free as much as possible, and we do not wish to add elements that would offend anyone. This is especially problematic, for many people consider much of folklore to be fair game, but unknowingly and ignorantly trod over religions that are actively practiced (in particular paganism) because they mirror fantasy gaming. While it’s less likely to cause a problem in a tabletop game, with more people playing in a LARP you have to keep in mind there are more things that can be offensive to a larger number of players."
> 
> Chapter title is from "Spirit of Albion" by Damh the Bard.
> 
> An isle so fair, a isle so green, known by many names.  
> Feel the pulse, the pulse of the land,  
> Blood boils within your veins.  
> Someone go down to the Holy Well and raise the Spirits there!  
> Lay a feather on a stone, with a flame, and a lock of hair.
> 
> The Crane, the wolf, the bear and the boar,  
> No longer dwell upon these shores,  
> You say that the Goddess and God have gone,  
> Well I tell you they live on!
> 
> For in the cities and hills,  
> And in circles of stone,  
> The voices of the Old Ways,  
> The Spirit of Albion is calling you home!
> 
> From Manwydden's crashing sea,  
> To the moor and the Highland Glen.  
> From the Faerie Hills, home of the Sidhe,  
> To the veins of the Broad and the Fen.
> 
> Someone go down to the Holy Trees  
> Of Oak and Ash and Thorn!  
> Utter a charm in the verse of three,  
> Till the Summer King is born!
> 
> Ride the white horses carved into the hills,  
> Walk to the Hanging Stones.  
> Bow to the might of Cerne Abbass' height,  
> Feel the peace in the Ancestors' homes.  
> Someone go down to Wilmington  
> Where the Giant guards the way!  
> Step into the Otherworld, into the womb,  
> Where centuries pass like a day!


	5. With Summer Comes Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Sunwing in Yalinth to Orsolya in Umbrasa. Dated July 417.

Greetings Orsolya,

I received your letter. I am pleasantly surprised by its contents. It seems your travels have brought you groundedness and insight. I am glad to hear you have come to a new acceptance of your destiny. 

There have been many developments since you left Yalinth. Most recently, you may have heard of the disputes with the Acarthian occupiers of our ancestral lands. The previous king agreed to return our lands to us, yet his son who succeeded him was as dishonorable as so many of his kind, and was not intending on upholding his father’s agreements. The Horse Tribe had already resumed hunting our ancestral lands upon hearing of the previous king’s statement, and the Acarthian trespassers objected.

There was war for a time, and while the fighting has paused for now as of a week ago, it is as though both sides are holding their breath, waiting for the final word from tribal council and Acarthian king. Alis Klartsen Stormslayer of Raven Tribe, appointed Emissary of Yalinth to the Acarthians as she has spent so much time learning their ways, facilitated an agreement between the tribes and the Acarthians. Should the council and king agree, we will in truth be uncontested from hunting our ancestral lands once more. 

Should they agree. 

You know the history between our peoples. You know something of the worth of a noble’s word. Horse Tribe will not relax its guard until the decision is confirmed on signed and sealed parchment, as the Acarthians are honorless dogs who respect only written agreements.

You know, too, of the changes in the stars and the magic of the Earth. Perhaps a third of our people have been given the stone marks of the Earth and taken oath to protect her from all that threatens from outside this plane, myself included. Unfortunately, some of this number seem not to have understood this gift nor the oath they took; led astray by leaders spreading false wisdom, they formed the Eagle Tribe entirely of Oathsworn. They desired continued war between Yalinth and Acarthia, thinking they were cleansing the land by removing all human life from it, and allied with the Monster of a Thousand Faces. How they could believe this did not break the First Oath, I do not know, unless they are misguided and self-deceived enough to think that the Monster is native to this plane and not a corruptive element of it. Nor do I understand how they did not see that this is a breach of their ancestral oath as Free-Folk of Yalinth to hunt down the Monster of a Thousand Faces wherever it may be found. 

Regardless, they aided it, and it possessed the Duke of Tasis. Alis was well-taught by Ilya Klartsen; I am impressed by her competence. She brings honor indeed to her teacher’s memory. She cast divinations, then coordinated the gathered tribes and Acarthians to build a weapon to cast the Thousand Faced One from the Duke’s body. They then came to the agreement I spoke of before.

I do not trust that this war is over. The trespassers on our ancestral lands yet object to our presence, and to the agreement; some of their number yet attack ours, outside the public orders of their leaders (though who knows what the two-faced nobles encourage in private), and we defend ourselves with little trouble. We prepare ourselves, we recover from battle-strain and wounds, and we remain watchful for further Acarthian betrayal.

The Monster of a Thousand Faces is loosed, too. I do not believe it was banished from this plane, merely forced from the Duke’s body. The sword was not blackened as it was in Yalinth’s fight, where the shadow was pierced and wounded; I suspect the creature was not weakened over-much. The banishing of it sounds too simple, too easy. Clan Vadas has sent their finest hunters across the clans, the Grasscats prowling all the hidden places of the steppes in search of any trace of the Thousand-Faced One. We táltos are in frequent communication with one another as we read the signs of Earth and ancestors for any signs. It is our duty as descendents of Yalinth to hunt the Monster, and we have been lax in following our ancestral Oath as there has been little active sign of it until now.

Nor do the Eagle Tribe rest. Though they were defeated, they remain fanatical. They harry our hunters and scouts. They strike and flee, setting a ger aflame or thieving resources. We must be watchful for the Acarthians and the Eagle Tribe alike, all the while seeking sign of the Thousand-Faced One. Our resources are stretched, and every single one of our People is needed for the tasks at hand.

I find myself reluctant to write of this last event, for my spirit is weary over it: Chieftain Petronya met with Death in battles with Acarthians and Eagle Tribe. Her spirit did return to the circle, but it is much weakened; she is not a young woman. Neither am I. My spirit, too, grows weak with age and strife. I thought I might lose her, and I fear for Clan Mielittu should she pass. The eldest Zsolnay girl, Gan, has been training at Petronya’s feet for some seasons now, but she is not yet ready. She will need much wisdom to guide her, and… well.

I have yet to find another student, Orsolya. If there is no one to succeed me, I may have to send to Clan Unakka to see if there are any potential táltos to spare, or failing that, to Raven Tribe. 

I am glad you are returning for initiation.

You may be worried about the rest of our family, but fear not. Your mother and fathers yet live; István teaches our young ones to hunt, though he aches to join his birth clan Vadas in the search for the Monster, and Györgi has turned his crafting skills entirely to the weapons of war that are so needed right now. The twins Ambrus and Yllona both married into Clan Jebes some seasons ago, and they have proved themselves well in battle. Young Miklos is a full alchemist these days, and has taken over most of your mother’s duties. 

May the wisdom of the Earth guide you, 

Sunwing Kaukapäivä Mielittu

Táltos of the clan of the Hawk

of the tribe of the Horse

of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Shin'a'in Song of the Seasons" by Mercedes Lackey:
> 
> The east wind is calling, so come ride away,   
> Come follow the Rover into the new day,   
> Come follow the Maiden, the Dark Moon, with me,   
> The new year's beginning, come ride out and see 
> 
> Come follow the Rover out into the Plains,   
> Come greet the new life under sweet, singing rains,   
> Come follow the Maiden beneath vernal showers,   
> For where Her feet passed you will find fragrant flowers 
> 
> The South wind, oh hear it, we ride to the call   
> We follow the Guardian, the Lord of us all,   
> We follow the Warrior, strong to defend,   
> The New Moon to fighters is ever a friend 
> 
> With summer comes fighting, with summer, our foes   
> And how we must thwart them the Guardian knows   
> The Warrior will give them no path but retreat,   
> The Warrior and Guardian will bring their defeat 
> 
> Come follow the West wind, the wind of the fall,   
> The Mother will cast her cloak over us all   
> Come follow the Hunter out onto the Plain,   
> Return to the Clan with the prey we have slain 
> 
> For now comes the autumn, the time of the West,   
> The season of Full Moon, of harvest, then rest   
> So take from Her hands all the fruits of the fields,   
> And thank Him for all that the autumn-hunt yields 
> 
> The North wind, the cold wind, the wind of the snow,   
> Tells us it is time, winter pastures to go   
> The Guide knows the path and the Crone shows us how   
> The Old Moon, and time for returning is now 
> 
> And if, with the winter, should come the last breath,   
> And riding, we ride out of life into death,   
> The Wise One, the Old Moon, will ease our last load.


	6. What's Done is Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note from Orsolya to Hildr', left in their formerly shared encampment, the night of the Masquerade at Baroness von Heisel's estate in Umbrasa, July 417.

Tisztelt Squire Hildr’ Yggdrasil,

I do  **not** release you from your oath to me.

I trust you have not forgotten it.

I have left you shares of coin you keep giving me. Do not give it all away as is your foolish habit. You still need to eat, and you cannot help others with coin if you have none to do so. 

Nor I have not forgotten my vow to Illya’s spirit. I will return if duty and circumstances allow.

Tisztelettel, 

Orsolya Kaukapäivä Mielittu

of the clan of the Hawk  
of the tribe of the Horse  
of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant songs from Orsolya's playlist:   
> \- "Tomorrow I Leave for Battle", Heather Alexander  
> \- "Spilling Blood", Aesthetic Perfection  
> \- "Never Say Never", The Fray  
> \- "Bound to Break", Michelle Creber  
> \- "Do or Die", Thirty Seconds to Mars
> 
> Chapter title is from "Ashes" by Pepper:
> 
> It's been so long, it's hard to breath when the trust is gone  
> A face of steel just melts away in the weather  
> You got a lot to weigh so weigh it  
> If you got a lot to say just say it  
> Aren't you tired of wasted fuel  
> So now I hand the fuse to you
> 
> Burn it all let's burn it all  
> Let fire fall and buy the fall  
> What's done is done it's in the past   
> It's ashes  
> I'm tired of you, you're tired of me  
> I hate the things you said to me  
> Now here's the chance to take it back   
> It's ashes, it's ashes
> 
> Maybe I should drive home,   
> Far from sober  
> Maybe I should sleep alone,   
> Cause I don't have a rubber  
> You got a lot to weigh so weigh it  
> If you got a lot to say just say it  
> Aren't you tired of wasted fuel   
> So now I hand the fuses to you
> 
> Run away and see, how much it really means to me  
> Oh my God, who in the hell has been washing your brain  
> Just lose the girl and start again  
> Maybe then, maybe then  
> Maybe then, maybe then
> 
> Let's burn it all let's burn it all  
> Let fire fall and buy the fall  
> What's done is done it's in the past   
> It's ashes  
> I'm tired of you, you're tired of me  
> I hate the things you said to me  
> Now here's the chance to take it back  
> It's ashes, oh it's ashes, ashes,   
> It's ashes, ashes [Repeat x3]   
> Oh ashes


	7. Can't Let You Make Those Mistakes With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawk's eye view of Orsolya's journeys from the day after the Umbrasan Masquerade (July 14th, 417) through the evening of the Yalinthian Saturnalia in New Acarthia (July 20th, 417).

Sunday 7/14

Orsolya is riding west towards the White Fang Mountains when the hawk catches up with her, keeping her stout little sorrel gelding at a steady trot. She eats light trail rations while in the saddle. When she finally makes camp, she sits by the small fire with a blank piece of parchment, staring at the fire and at the paper, brow furrowed. She writes a couple lines. Stares at the paper some more. Seems to almost snarl, then crosses it out. She puts her head in her hands, pressing her palms over her eyes for what seems like ages. Finally she shakes her head, runs her hands wearily through her hair, and goes into her tent.

Monday 7/15

Uneventful travel, still at that steady trot, with the occasional break for grazing, water, or slowing to a walk. When she camps, she sits again with parchment and quill. She writes a line, looks pained or melancholy. Writes a few more. Chews on the quill, writes part of a line, scratches it out with a sigh. She sets the parchment carefully inside the tent and turns in for the night.

Tuesday 7/16

A long steady day of riding before making camp at twilight. Angry writing on parchment––it looks to be the same parchment as the night before, in fact, and perhaps the same as the night before that; it has several crossed-out lines on it. She pauses at times to glare at the paper, scratch out a line, and furiously write more. Her body gets more and more tense as she writes until she is gripping the quill so tightly that it snaps.

She curses, pulls out another quill, sharpens it with a knife, and dips it in the ink - but the whole process is enough time that the tension ebbs, and the anger seems to drain away. When she sets the pen to parchment again, it is only to cross out the last couple of lines, then put the whole mess away and crawl into the tent.

Wednesday 7/17

As she rides, Orsolya sometimes looks at the hawk, then at her surroundings, brow furrowed. When she camps, she pulls out a fresh piece of parchment. She writes slowly, with a frown that creases into something… pained, perhaps. This time she crosses nothing out, and signs it at the end. Orsolya looks at it for a long moment.

She sighs, shakes her head, and pulls out her pouch of bones. She opens the pouch, laying out the painted leather and holding the bones in one hand. She looks up towards where the hawk is, then back at the bones. She does not throw them, but holds them for a long minute, and seems to tremble; sharp hawk eyes might see that her eyes are moist. Then she grimaces, squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head vigorously, and puts the bones away without throwing them even once.

Thursday 7/18

Orsolya is deep in the mountains. The hawk sometimes loses sight of her as she rides through the dense forest. She has crossed over to the Acarthian side of the White Fang Mountains by now, and is working her way down towards New Acarthia. In the late afternoon, her horse spooks; Orsolya is unbalanced but recovers, and there is a howling sound. Orsolya looks behind her, her eyes widen, and she leans over her horse’s neck and urges him onward. The hawk spies a group of very large howlbears chasing her, at times seeming to try to flank her or drive her in one direction or another. Her horse stumbles here and there, at one point going to his knees, at another sliding down gravel and slippery stone. Orsolya somehow manages to stay astride, and her mount somehow manages to not break a limb. The hawk loses them here and there in the tree cover.

There is one long stretch where nothing can be seen, only the sound of an occasional howl; the hawk circles, seeking any sign of Orsolya. Finally she and her horse burst from the tree cover at a full gallop; his red hide is flecked with foam and the hawk can see the rolling whites of his eyes. The horse stumbles again, trips and falls, rolls as Orsolya barely manages to spring free of the saddle; they both tumble down the slope. They lay still for the space of several breaths, then both struggle to their feet. Orsolya looks over her shoulder before grabbing her horse’s reins, running her hand over his legs, taking a deep breath, and then taking off on foot at a limping run with her horse in tow.

They do not seem to be followed. At last she stops running. She remounts her horse; they walk until early dusk before making camp. She checks and repacks her gear, which looks somewhat the worse for wear after the mad chase and the tumble. Finally she lays out her blanket roll, not bothering to set up the tent, and climbs into the makeshift bed.

Friday 7/19

Nearing New Acarthia, Orsolya leaves the true snow-capped mountains and enters the eastern foothills. She makes camp while it’s still daylight and takes the time to bathe in a cool mountain stream, wash her clothes, and clean her boots and her horse’s tack. She writes again, more calmly this time, and does not cross anything out.

Saturday 7/20

Orsolya rides into New Acarthia and first finds a messenger service attached to the town guard barracks, to whom she gives a letter.

Saturday afternoon, 7/20

Orsolya sets up camp at the edge of town, near a cluster of other tents, and is pounding in the last of the tent stakes when the sky opens up. Thunder, lightning, pouring rain; she shelters in the town guard barracks, and the watching hawk shelters under a dense pine. (Orsolya’s horse is in the paddocks provided for travelers, munching on hay, unbothered by the wet despite the available shelter just feet away from him.) Eventually it dissipates, and she returns to her tent to finish putting it and herself in order before heading to the tavern.

The tavern’s main room is a round structure, double doors to the north and the south, with large windows along the entirety of its circumference. The hawk has no trouble seeing inside. When Orsolya enters the tavern, Alis sees her and rushes to hug her. Orsolya smiles for the first time since she left Umbrasa. 

They move to a counter by a window and start talking. Alis says something with a grin; Orsolya seems aghast and surprised, shakes her head in vehement denial. Alis gives Orsolya a disbelieving look, one eyebrow raised. Orsolya does not make eye contact with Alis for the next several minutes of conversation, jaw set, shoulders tight with tension, shaking her head, holding her staff in a death-grip. Alis looks exasperated, concerned, frustrated, and amused all in turns. Orsolya just seems to get smaller, wrapping an arm around herself, sighing and her shoulders slumping. 

They are interrupted just before tide change when the tavern is attacked by a spellcaster, a human noble, with the black ichor of corruption oozing from every orifice (a thick black liquid, thick like molasses but flowing like water). He is accompanied by a veritable horde of corrupted goblins, humanoids, and undead. It’s a fierce dynamic fight; Orsolya avoids getting hit, narrowly at times, but provides plenty of healing, counter-curses and counter-commands, and chases the spellcaster down at one point when he flees; she narrowly dodges one of his creatures, but the caster is brought down by the handful of Acarthians chasing him as well. The creatures cease to spawn, and the caster is brought into a circle outside the tavern. Orsolya provides some more healing to various Acarthians, then heads back into the tavern.

She helps Alis set up for what must be the Saturnalia. Raising two pavilions, starting a fire. Orsolya goes briefly back to her tent, returns with a rough leather pack that she occasionally pulls a waterskin from. When she returns, a square space has been marked out with a host of candles next to the pavilions, and people are already dueling within it. Puck and a few others are watching. Orsolya pauses at the stairs that lead down to the tavern, an unreadable look on her face. She heads over to the pavilions near the pit fight and sits in a chair; it’s a little hard to see where she’s looking with the shade of the pavilion. 

After a time, she goes to Alis with a crooked grin on her face. Alis grins back, asks something, gestures to the pit. Orsolya hesitates, then shakes her head. Alis rolls her eyes and says something else; Orsolya hesitates even longer, then says something in response, and now Alis shrugs. They talk a bit longer before Orsolya returns to her chair beneath the pavilion. The pit fights continue. The various people watching seem to be taking bets; money exchanges hands at one point. Orsolya is alone under the pavilion; most people are in the tavern or standing right outside the pit.

The hawk leaves at this point, as night falls and the pit empties, people heading inside for further festivities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appropriate songs from Orsolya's playlist:  
> \- "Never Say Never" by The Fray  
> \- "Farewell" by Rihanna  
> \- "I Will Remember You" by Solas  
> \- "Tomorrow" by Aesthetic Perfection  
> \- "Do Or Die" by Thirty Seconds to Mars
> 
> Chapter title is from "Find Yourself" by Great Good Fine.
> 
> I've been waiting  
> Half my life  
> Just to be the one to take you home tonight  
> We can make it  
> If we try  
> But I wanna wait until the time is right
> 
> Tell me what's on your mind  
> I can't get you off mine  
> Are we over or meant to be  
> Don't need to know right now  
> Timing will work it out  
> Can't let you make those mistakes with me
> 
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself  
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself
> 
> Did I lose you  
> I can't change  
> But you're free to turn and walk the other way  
> I won't abuse you  
> Either way  
> I don't know if there will be another day
> 
> Tell me what's on your mind  
> I can't get you off mine  
> Are we over or meant to be  
> Don't need to know right now  
> Timing will work it out  
> Can't let you make those mistakes with me
> 
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself  
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself
> 
> Tell me what's on your mind  
> I can't get you off mine  
> Are we over or meant to be  
> Don't need to know right now  
> Timing will work it out  
> Can't let you make those mistakes with me
> 
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself  
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself  
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself  
> So don't let someone find you until you find yourself


	8. Twisted and Tangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters written by Orsolya to Hildr', while traveling from Dragonhold to New Acarthia. They remain in Orsolya's packs, unsent.

July 14,419

Hildr’ - 

~~ I am sorry. Not for leaving; that is something I believe I must do. I am sorry for ~~

* * *

July 15, 419

Hildr’,

I did not want to leave this way. With harsh words and no true goodbyes. I wish I had slept on it as you suggested. I did not even cast the bones or consult the ancestors before I left, so worried and worked up was I. 

~~ I do mean to come back, if I can ~~

* * *

July 16, 419

Squire Hildr’,

Why the fuck do I keep apologizing? How could you not understand? You who put duty and oath above all, even though the people you seek to aid give you only harsh words and rejection.  ~~ They do not deserve you and do not know the gift and honor they have in you ~~

You put duty and oath and service above your wants, needs, or heart. How dare you tell me where my duties lie, or who my service belongs to?  ~~ I have sworn no oaths to you ~~

You have no right to tell me how I should honor my oaths, ancestors, or family.  ~~ It is not as if you listened in the elder's tree anyway ~~ You left your family and your house, after all. Did they not need you in the Maelstrom, as you claim Dragonhold needs me?

~~ Fuck you and your fucking belt and your two faced nobles who treat you like hell anyway, maybe you deserve each other after  ~~

* * *

July 17, 419

Squire Hildr’, Totem of Hawk,   
  


Is the hawk that has followed me these past days  **yours** ? I would interpret it as a sign that I am on the right path, the Hawk of my Clan accompanying me and blessing my way. Yet I know your connection to hawk, and you have used hawks to send messages for me before. If it is your hawk, that changes the auguries; sometimes a hawk is merely a hawk, and not greater meaning, and sometimes a hawk is your  ~~chieftain’s friend’s ally’s~~ fellow Oathsworn’s messenger.

Why would you send your hawk to follow me? That makes no kind of sense at all. What would you gain from that?

I shall take it tentatively as a good omen, a sign that my path to Yalinth is blessed by Mielittu’s Hawk. That this is where my ancestors guide me, and that this is where my duty lies.

I hope that someday you will understand.

I hope that, someday, you might forgive me.   
  


Üdvözlettel,

Orsolya Kaukapäivä Mielittu

of the clan of the Hawk  
of the tribe of the Horse  
of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Bound to Break" by Michelle Creber.
> 
> Twisted and tangled, what are we now  
> So far removed from how we started out  
> I fail to remember why it began  
> Do your words cut deep unintentionally  
> Or do you know how to bend my sensitivity  
> No matter what you find ways to put blame on me
> 
> I can't stand this game but life's built to change  
> I hold on but everything is bound to break  
> Why can't we always stay the same  
> Trust compromised, now I realize  
> I've been desperate to hide that side of you I fight  
> Wish I could go back to the time  
> When everything was fine, everything was fine
> 
> I find diamonds buried deep in the dirt  
> Naive and blind I get myself hurt  
> I see the best things, still see them in you  
> I miss the past why can't we just go back  
> Don't care what reasons made us break our track  
> I'm still convinced that there's mostly good left in you
> 
> I can't stand this game but life's built to change  
> I hold on but everything is bound to break  
> Why can't we always stay the same  
> Trust compromised, now I realize  
> I've been desperate to hide that side of you I fight  
> Wish I could go back to the time, to when everything was...
> 
> How can I let go when I know that deep down you care  
> Saying the problems are all in my head is not fair  
> Take advantage of my willing heart to forgive and forget  
> I should have seen this whole side of you that you hide  
> Turned into something I can barely recognize  
> But then you change back and I can't just  
> ignore that smile, it only lasts for a while
> 
> Please pause the game, I hate this change  
> I hold on because I never wanted us to break  
> Who says we can't just stay the same  
> (who says we can't just stay the same)  
> Trust compromised, I'll forget the lies  
> I've been desperate to find that side of you I can't fight  
> Let's try and go back to that time  
> Let's try and go back  
> Will we ever be fine


	9. When Tomorrow Comes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Orsolya in New Acarthia, Acarthia to Baroness Gwenevere Thane in Fort Alliance, Dragonhold. Dated Friday of July 19, 417.

Friday, July 19, 417

Tisztelt Baroness Gwenevere Thane  
of the Barony of Litimore  
of the Empire of Helios   


I write this nearly a week after leaving Umbrasa. If all goes well, I will be in Yalinth by the time you read this, in Mielittu territory in Horse Tribe lands. I hope you have recovered from illness by now, and return travels to Fort Alliance were uneventful. 

I regret leaving without notice. It was not something I planned. I worry Squire Hildr’ Yggdrasil did not tell you why or how I left, and I think you are deserving of explanation. It was poor traveling manners of me to leave this way.

You may remember a messenger bringing me parcel and letters as we arrived at estate of Baroness Von Heisel. My sister-in-craft, Alis Klartsen Stormslayer of Raven Tribe, made me the surcoat I wore at masquerade. Also she sent me a letter. My néni - aunt, I think you would say, the mate of the sister of my mother - and teacher in Horse Tribe, Sunwing, she sent me the boots I wore, and a letter as well. 

I thought the letters to be but pleasantries and news of family. Preparations for masquerade were more pressing, so I waited to open them until all was done. There was no time till after the end of everything, and after you retired to bed.

These letters were not pleasantries at all. Alis spoke of many troubling things in my homeland, and said I may want to return to Yalinth, across the White Fang Mountains. My néni Sunwing, who is táltos of my clan, firmly requested my return. She warned of battle and the return of the ancient enemy of my people, who I believe is a kind of Outsider. She spoke also of not yet finding a new student who might replace her someday, as she had trained me to do, and warned of her age and weakening spirit. 

I fear I acted in haste. I said that I must leave Dragonhold, I must return home to Yalinth. Squire Hildr’ tried to convince me to stay; she did not understand my urgency; she tried to convince me to wait the night before leaving. I said I could not stay, my ancestral oaths took precedence over what duties I only just began to take on in Fort Alliance - and indeed, I feared if I waited, I would lose conviction to return home, which would dishonor and anger my ancestors.

We quarreled. More than quarreled. We said very unkind things to one another. She refused to listen, she cannot understand why I needed to leave; she does not have ties nor obligations to family, home, and ancestors that I have. Not anymore. And she has ties that I do not, such as duties that come with bondage of belt and chain that she chose to pursue. I cannot understand those as she cannot understand mine.

I suspect she will be in foul mood. I am sorry for my part in it. Especially if it made for a troublesome, uncomfortable return journey. More so, I am sorry to not let you know why. 

I wish you to know my departure has nothing to do with you, nor what happened at masquerade, nor Squire Hildr’, nor anyone of Dragonhold. It is all to do with my people, and matters of my homeland that call me away. I am not entirely sure why I have explained at such length to you. 

Squire Hildr’ has friends and kin enough in Dragonhold, and is capable person. She does not need me. 

She cares deeply for you, and is loyal to a fault. She is sworn to you, is she not? Among my people, if you have accepted someone’s oath of service, you have as many responsibility to them as they to you. I do not know if it is the same with your people. Someone sworn to your service and guidance, as is my understanding of squire, is your responsibility to provide for in turn. 

I know it may not be the same for your people. I understand Squire Hildr’s liege lord Duke Sir Marcus did seek to discard her service after learning of her deep despair in April. This, to my people, is violation of duty, breaking of oath, and great failing of any leader. I have no respect for one who would do such. 

If my teacher in táltos path discarded me when I was sick at heart and making foolish choice, she would be no teacher at all. Is it not duty of knight to mentor and guide squire to knighthood? Or do your people simply seek to trial students without room for error, and discard them if they break? Accept their service, yet provide them no guidance except for demands and punishment? Demand their sacrifices - and receive such sacrifices - yet decry them and toss them aside should they stumble?

I know this Marcus is not of your land, so perhaps nobles of this place are more responsible to those whose serve them. Perhaps Herod is exception, not rule. But maybe I am sharing my anger with you unfairly. You have acted more compassionate and principled than any human nobility I have met in both Acarthia and Dragonhold. You have my respect, though I know that may be of little worth to you. 

I trust that Squire Hildr’s service to you is valued, and you take seriously your responsibility of liege lord to those in your service. 

I trust, as well, that you do not bear your burdens alone, such as those added to you at the masquerade, and that you unburden yourself to at least some of those who care about you. Hurt contained within oneself and never shared becomes a poison in the heart, and a weight in the soul. Sharing it is like draining infection from a wound so it may heal clean. 

I see too many people in Fort Alliance trying to carry burdens secretly and private, all on their own. I do not know what can be done for this, but I hope you do not become one of them. You have many around you who care deeply for you. 

I have shared far more than I meant to, and perhaps it is foolish to send this letter. Maybe you will be deeply offended. It is not meant as insult. My people speak openly and direct; subtlety is not in our nature. 

I will stop writing before I err further.   
  


Tisztelettel, 

Orsolya Kaukapäivä Mielittu  
  
of the clan of the Hawk  
of the tribe of the Horse  
of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

Postscript: As courtesy of translation, “tisztelt” is form of letter address amongst Horse Tribe that is most official and formal. It may translate to “Respected”, or “Dear Sir/Madam” perhaps, and the ending “Tisztelettel” is maybe similar to “Respectfully yours”, at least in Acarthian human letter tradition. I do not know if it is the same in your lands. It is like whatever the form of address one would use with your people to write respectfully formal letter, for official reason, or when one does not wish to be too familiar due to rank, general respect, or lack of closeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Tomorrow" by Aesthetic Perfection.
> 
> I cannot sleep  
> I cannot breathe  
> The air is gone.
> 
> All I can see  
> Is you is you
> 
> So time passes and I wait  
> Nothing comes to take me from this
> 
> I don't believe  
> so I ask so I ask...
> 
> When tomorrow comes again  
> Will I fall  
> Will I face this world again  
> Will the day be brighter than it was before
> 
> When tomorrow comes again  
> Will it last  
> Will we stand on our own again  
> I can't believe that we still care  
> It's time to say goodbye and just move on...
> 
> And just move on...
> 
> The falls open me  
> My thoughts focused  
> Lost in memory  
> Too blind to see  
> The truth in you  
> A sense of light  
> I'll just close my eyes  
> Until the sun shines down on me
> 
> When tomorrow comes again  
> Will I fall  
> Will I face this world again  
> Will the day by brighter than it was before
> 
> When tomorrow comes again  
> Will It last  
> Will we stand on our own again  
> I can't believe that we still can  
> It's time to say goodbye and just move on...
> 
> And just move on --


	10. Choke on Your Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Orsolya in New Acarthia, Acarthia, sent to Hildr' in Fort Alliance, Dragonhold. Dated July 21, 419.

July 21, 419

Squire Hildr’ Yggdrasil, 

  
A hawk has followed me all this way from Umbrasa to New Acarthia. I did not know if it was sign of approval from Mielittu clan Hawk, or if it was hawk of yours.

This morning, I know.

That  **was** your hawk. Sitting on ground outside my tent, as no hawk does willingly. Shrieking and diving at me before flying westward.

If you wanted me to know you are angry with me and you want nothing more to do with me, message received.

Though it is nothing I did not already know.

  
Orsolya Kaukapäivä Mielittu

of the clan of the Hawk  
of the tribe of the Horse  
of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Spilling Blood" by Aesthetic Perfection.
> 
> Every living creature on Earth dies alone
> 
> Stare with empty eyes  
> Patiently I wait  
> Aching for a sign  
> That I have been betrayed  
> We're all fighting to live here  
> Survive the emptiness I know  
> Because there's no denying  
> We all die alone
> 
> [Chorus]  
> She says she's never been so alone  
> Don't you care about me?  
> I've spilt my blood, stitched up and scarred up  
> And numb, nothing else changes x2
> 
> Choke on your regret  
> And I will do the same  
> It's selfish to forget  
> Perhaps the only way  
> I'm not lying believe me  
> I tried but look what you've become  
> What have I done  
> I've made you this way, this way, go


	11. Once There Was Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Orsolya in southeast Ungsteen, Acarthia, to Lord Robert DuVak Brightstone, formerly the Emerald Falcon, in Fort Alliance, Dragonhold. Dated Tuesday July 23, 417.

Tuesday, July 23, 417

Tisztelt Lord Robert DuVak Brightstone  
of Fort Alliance  
of Dragonhold

I must apologize for my sudden departure after Masquerade in Umbrasa. I want to make sure you know it was nothing to do with conversation at Masquerade. I received letters from my homeland with troubling news and urgent request to return. 

On the way home, I stopped in New Acarthia for their Gathering to see my craft-sister Alis. There I met a fox wylderkin, Puck, who heard I came recently from Dragonhold, and asked if I knew the Emerald Falcon. It is strange to hear of Fort Alliance matters within another land. Puck spoke warmly of you, saying you traveled together for a moon or so. I am impressed by this fox. I think Puck is something of táltos too, only with different training and background. He sends warm regards.

I worry for Hildr’. We said unkind things to each other the night I left. My leaving is yet another person who left her in one way or another, and I fear it will bring up old wounds for her. I warn you now: She may take undue risks in doing what she sees to be her duty. She is too swift to offer her death for a cause, when there may be other ways to success. Her life is of more value to people she serves than her death, but she sees this not. 

I hope she does not. I hope I am of far, far less worth to her than she is to me, and my leaving affects her not. I hope I worry for nothing. Maybe I do. 

Please remember what I said before, about cost of path to heart and spirit. I hope to return and serve with the skills I have, but I do not know if oath and duty will allow. If I cannot, I hope you unburden yourself to someone, that there is at least one to trust and hear.

Response not required or expected, but if you are to write response, send to Mielittu clan in Horse Tribe land in Yalinth.

  
Tisztelettel, 

  
Orsolya Kaukapäivä Mielittu  
  
of the clan of the Hawk  
of the tribe of the Horse  
of the Free-Folk of Yalinth

Postscript: As courtesy of translation, “tisztelt” is form of letter address amongst Horse Tribe that is most official and formal. It may translate to “Respected”, or “Dear Sir/Madam” perhaps, and the ending “Tisztelettel” is maybe similar to “Respectfully yours”, at least in Acarthian human letter tradition. I do not know if it is the same in your lands. It is like whatever the form of address one would use with your people to write respectfully formal letter, for official reason, or when one does not wish to be too familiar due to rank, general respect, or lack of closeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "I Will Remember You", by Solas.
> 
> Remember the good times that we had  
> I let them slip away from us when things got bad  
> How clearly I first saw you smiling in the sun  
> Want to feel your warmth upon, want to be the one
> 
> I will remember you  
> Will you remember me?  
> Don't let your life pass you by  
> Weep not for the memories
> 
> I'm so tired but I can't sleep  
> Standing on the edge of something much too deep  
> It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word  
> We are screaming inside but we can't be heard
> 
> I will remember you  
> Will you remember me?  
> Don't let your life pass you by  
> Weep not for the memories
> 
> I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to lose  
> Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose  
> Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night  
> You gave me everything you had, you gave me light


End file.
